We live in a world filled with fantasy. A take it. It's yours. A world filed with Augustus Waters prose. A friend who seeks to ease your injustice with the crack of a carton of eggs against a shiny new car. A world of self fulfilling prophecy. You just have to want something enough. Wish it into existence, it's yours for the taking. But that isn't real life. Those moments are fleeting. When twilight meets the darkness of night and the fireflies start to flicker. Those moments that are so fast they almost aren't real. When they do come along. Once in a very long while. They become dusty memories. Stored in the crevices and folds of your logical mind. Tucked away in your hopeful heart that wishes for a longer second. An extra hug. A more meaningful kiss. One that will tell you "I love you" with more than lips and teeth and tongue. But in spasmed fingers against clenched up shirts, and eyes that flutter open to search yours with intent. To impress upon you that this fleeting moment is wholehearted. All encompassing. Something to remember. That it means something.
And sometimes it does. Star shot night skies that twinkle above. Just for the two of you. Single words that wrap into sentences of promises. Shared smiles over coffee and stories of vagabond musicians from the night before. Sometimes it really does mean something.
And sometimes. It doesn't mean anything at all.
This is one of those moments. Where the smallest signs tell a story. Of static lines and crinkled paper. Where ink smudged pinkies and bright smiles contradict one another. And everything becomes one more moment. To tuck away tightly in the deepest compartments. To be forgotten. Because you remember the lesson that always, somehow, seems to escape you, and slip past your heart walls. That this world is filled with fantasy. And this is what it means to live.