I didn’t write a story for this one during the contest, because I was judging and I don’t like to think too much about the prompt while I’m judging. I don’t want my vision of a story to bias what I’m reading. But I wanted to write something, and here it is.
You sat on the corner of the sectional, knees bent, creating your own little world with you and your tablet. Your face was impassive, but studious, the light flickering in your eyes the only indication that you were busy.
Probably playing Words With Friends, as you so often did. So much better than me, teaching me by beating me up one side and down the other.
But then I saw a twinkle in your eye – just a hint of one. I saw you writing something, and I waited. There it was, a message to me. Nothing amazing – just some simple words saying hi. But then again, your words were never simple. Buried deep within them were messages that I could spend years delving into.
I loved that I brought a twinkle to your eye. That simple things mattered so much. That the touch of a hand on a foot conveyed a closeness I’d rarely encountered.
I saw you writing again. This time, it was words I’d never read. Things fall apart, the center cannot hold. But the twinkle is still there, refracted through a tear. Is it in my eye or yours?