19AD8 | A Short Story: Laugh
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A Short Story: Laugh

*This story is entirely a work of fiction.*

She looked over at me and said, “It really is amazing watching how you interact with other people, especially how they then interact with you…”

I responded comically, “Quite the observation. Shorty, you sitting over there watching me… and you call me weird?”

She nervously laughed, but didn’t say anything, so I continued to speak, “And I guess it’s because that I recognize that everyone is their own individual person… So, I’m a different man to every person. I mean, I’m the same man, but with each person my tone of voice is slightly different, sentence structure is different, choice of words is different, the speed at which I talk is different… everyone really gets specific attention and personalized medicine from me.”

She smiled while saying, “Yeah I’ve noticed that.”

Then I said, “That just kind of naturally occurs, I don’t really control it, or even realize it until after the interaction is done. I always try to leave people feeling a bit better than they felt before.”

Then she said, “That really is an intense gift that you have…”

I quickly responded, “It’s sort of like a blessing and a curse… and I think people can kind of see, read, hear that in the different types of art that I make… which unfortunately makes it slightly difficult for me to try and figure out a mainstream sound, while still keeping my style of writing.

Because there really is no mainstream sound, everyone is different. People can have similar tastes, but to really affect someone positively, it has to be sincere and custom. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

She responded with high levels of sass, “Yeah, that’s a blessing and curse for me as well because every girl instantly falls in love with you… in a very unique way.”

I responded without much time to think, “Shorty… if I were to tell you that I was secretly one of the most famous people in the world, would you believe me?”

She closed her eyes in contemplation for a few moments and then said, “I’m sorry to say, but I wouldn’t…however, based on the talent that I’m seeing from you, I think you easily could one day.”

I looked directly into her eyes and said, “You know the phrase, before me there was many, after me there will be no more?”

She responded quickly, “I think I’ve heard that once or twice…”

Then I said, “I’m certain that that applies here.”

The atmospheric mood changed, and she changed the subject and said, “So… how’s that poem that you said you were going to write to me coming along?”

I closed my eyes to speak from memorization, “This is what I have so far:

On the inside she’s blessed with the soul of an angel,

On the outside she’s blessed with the beauty of a Princess,

She has a smile that mimics her pristine spirit,

When I look in her eyes I see the pain that she’s dealt with,

And then I look into her eyes and hear –“

She abruptly stopped me from speaking and said, “Alright, alright, you’re really just going to read that in front of me like that? You’re supposed to handwrite a poem tome so I can read it on my own time.”

I’ve never seen her get shy before, or at least around me, so I recognized that the words I was writing were probably decent.

Then I said, “Yeah I can do that… I’ll probably write some different stuff, if it’s a handwritten piece.”

Immediately after I read her the beginning of that poem, she started looking at me differently so I continued to say, “These are interesting times… it’s like after someone observes the art that I create, they look at me differently. It’s intense. It’s an entirely new era of responsibility. When someone wholeheartedly trusts you, or loves you, or rather trusts you with their love… that’s real responsibility. It’s overwhelming at times.” 

She kept her eyes closed, listening to what I saying, but didn’t respond so I continued speaking, “Not to mention I’m dealing with my own brothers that view me as an enemy, rather than a brother or an artist. And that does affect me.”

She then opened her eyes and said, “That is a tremendous responsibility and you need to be responsible. As far as your brothers, I think they act that way because you have no problem being spiritually vulnerable with your art, but to me, at least, to me, that makes you more masculine than any other man I ever met.”

Then I said, “I certainly appreciate those comments from you.”

And then she immediately said, “And as far as people looking at you differently, well… as I have been saying, you’re fucked up. People have a difficult time understanding how someone so quiet and reserved in real life can create such powerful artwork.”

I smiled and then said, “Shorty, I’m starting to get kind of hungry…”

She giggled, which to me is the definition of when she laughs while blushing and then said to me, “Where do you want to eat?”

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