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GULL
trouble just grew wings
“Just because you shall be all right does not mean you currently are,” the pink-winged creature comments lightly, words more of a suggestion than a rebuke. Perceptive, aren’t we? She’s right, but you let her observation go by unbidden. You don’t want her pity, and you’re certainly not going to talk about your feelings with her. So you say nothing, slipping back into a moody silence instead.
It seems though, that she is even more surprised than you when you ask after her. Dusky eyes light up, like twin sunsets in reverse, and a fleeting smile hovers on her lips. Despite your broody state, a corner of your mouth twitches upward in amusement. You only asked her how she was, after all. It’s not as if you had asked her to bear your children.
“I am doing well. Better now that I have company,” the girl replies, and you watch her mouth tremble, catching the shy smile before it leaves and coaxing it to bloom across her face. She looks nice like that, you think vaguely, pretty. And though your heart still aches with the heaviness of grief and guilt, there is something hopeful about that smile that your subconscious just can’t ignore. Without realizing it, as she draws closer to you, you take a step, then two, towards her.
As if to emphasize her happiness, four wings fan and flutter gently while the mare speaks again, introducing herself as Muriel. “Can I know yours?” she inquires, before adding in the same gentle tone, “Perhaps I can help you take your mind off whatever has caused you such distress.” In another time, in another place, you would have had a lewd remark ready (and all things considered, if everything went according to the usual pattern, she’d be flying off by now with you cackling after her), but subdued as you are, you search your mind and find nothing. “Gull,” you tell her simply. No gimmicks, no pickup lines, just Gull. “And I’m fine,” you insist doggedly, brushing away her concern. Perhaps the words sound hollow, or perhaps you both know that you’re lying though, for as soon as they’ve left your mouth, you know that she won’t believe you.
“…Can we please not talk about it?” you ask quietly, lowering your head to look up at her, voice almost pleading. “I just want to forget.”
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