21 May Chapter 1: Atmosphere (Unedited)

They found themselves at a house somewhere, nestled upon the flattest of land with the greenest grass one could ever see. Although the grass was incredibly green, it was blanketed by the depths of freshly-fallen snowflakes. Even the warm water of the lake was stricken with frigidness. The house’s hue was kept in sight by numerous orange lanterns, candle-lit around the premise.

The scene was almost ironic in the paradox of viewing something obviously caressed by a cold temperature, but at the same time heated visually by the house’s hypnotic-glowing lights. The outside atmosphere, followed the two, a man and a woman, into the humble little household. They were both
resting upon each other, in the utmost of comfort, that was matched by an erroneous level of internally-hidden complication of feelings.

This uncertainty, this discomfort, was felt by both of them, even though neither one of them vocalized it. Regardless – two strong smiles were ever-stained upon both of their faces. To a certain extent, these two were in-between joyousness and skepticism. The person-to-person atmosphere, energy,
chemistry between them two showcased a clear high regard, maybe even a glimpse of growing love for one another, but, also on an individual level, held their internal to an even higher regarded value.

Their brains struck an almost instrumental like conversation while their hearts carried out the whisper of a silent language. At one particular moment, their eyes deeply locked. He turned turn to her and with a brash, melodic tone, asked, “Do
you believe in coincidences?”

Taken aback by such an odd question, she gave a dry smile and responded, “How do you mean?” At the time her eyes were moist with a subtle hope, a passion, that simply could not go unnoticed, even in the busiest of rooms.

He leaned over and with a calming confidence said, “You know.. like coincidences. Do you think two interwoven circumstances happen with a randomness, or they happen because, well, maybe they should happen?”

She sat a bit upright, cleared her throat, and took a second to respond. As if she wanted to give her true answer, not one that maybe he would only want to hear. “Well..” she said, “Couldn’t that be one of the same? Couldn’t randomness and ‘supposed’ to happen actually be the same? What makes
something random anyway?”

She sat back, with a bold smile, knowing that she gave a ponderous response to what could have been a relatively simple question.

They both didn’t say anything for a few moments. Just sat back and resumed being comfortable. She fixed the placement of the blanket that they were both sharing. One could definitely notice the change of tempo in their beating hearts.

His heart:
This woman.
Nothing seems to phase.
A maze inside my mind,
Only seems to complicate more,
With her guarded responses,
yet intricate gaze.
Do I speak more of how I feel,
or do I conceal it further,
for only her to peel?
For always a forewarning,
If it’s too easy to peel,
It becomes too simple.
If it becomes too simple,
Then there is nothing left,
for her to peel.
Then I would become too much of a bore,
that not even a solid smile with a dimple,
Would be enough to bring her back,
Forever more.

He gave off a smart-alec chuckle, looked at her and said, “Randomness is typically associated with luck, albeit good or bad, but it is certainly some type of luck. A chance, if I might add, would be different than something.. universally meant to happen. There is a difference.”

She caught on to the flirtatiousness of his tone and closed her eyes for an extenuated blink.

Her heart:
A pure love,
As it may seem.
But, understood all too well,
Not all is always as it seems.
The seams seem to loosen up,
The more we touch,
not on the basis of physicality,
but the stem of a soul,
it stems from a good place,
this much I know.
The mysteriousness however,
seems to blindside me,
A good or bad thing,
I surely do not know,
but a seed of intrigue,
continues to grow.
What is it about me?
That he seems to like to hold.

She moves her hair behind both ears and with a soft-spoken lust responds back to him, “Maybe you are right. Maybe all things are meant to happen, but then what would be the point of luck? If nothing is to be quite random, then why does randomness exist?”

He briefly looks down, concentrating and then pronounces, “I think randomness does exist.. if you think about it, the very nature of nature itself is based on evolutionary random tangents. I suppose the occurrence of that instantaneous change could be considered luck.”

She responds with a wit-temper almost immediately, “Well then, what you would be saying is that the very beauty, the poetry behind nature, the underlying fabric of things like that would be random – that doesn’t seem very poetic, or beautiful.”

He gives off a soft chuckle because he realized that he got to her real answer from the original question he asked.

He continues the conversation anyways, “I suppose that’d be a different type of random.. I know how you like analogies so, for example: if we were to go out to eat, picked a place and had a great conversation, time, intellect that grew us – would we have had that same energy, conversation, if we picked somewhere else? If not, was it random?”

She lets it marinate for a second then replies, “Maybe you’re right.. or at least make a good point, to a certain extent. It would not be random that we picked that place because it was picked based off indulgent factors, things that would appease us, which would set a certain atmosphere.. that would probably entice such a conversation.

BUT, What if we picked a different place, based off of similar indulgences? If it were not random, then we would most likely have had the same conversation, right?”

He leaves the room for a few moments and returns with a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. He meticulously and slowly uncorks the bottle and pours a healthy serving into both glasses. He hands her one which she grabs with a confident smirk.

They both take a sip, holding back a few solid laughs, knowing that they are having a ridiculous, but provoking conversation.

He drinks more than half of his glass then without hesitation says, “Well.. this whole conversation is getting a bit confusing (laughs). I’d like to believe that the energy we’d share would be different from one place to the next, I suppose there is no way of really knowing.

But, let’s just say we picked somewhere we’ve never been before, somewhere completely random with no known parameters that would quench our indulgences, would that atmosphere, that vibe, be random or maybe supposed to happen? Because basically, please correct me if I am mistaken, you are essentially saying that if indulgence does not accompany an acquaintance, then the atmosphere of the events beyond it – would essentially .. just be random?”

She doesn’t say anything, but moves herself closer to him and rests her head, closed eyelids, on his shoulder. They both get warmly quiet.

A silent internal conversation of two hearts:

him: I think I’d really like to just..
her: He probably should just..
him: I should have said something else, something more, substance
her: He should just say less, more abstract romance
him: I like the feeling of feeling, but too many feelings got me
feeling too mute
her: A heart has a lot of room
him: She probably doesn’t feel the same way, or her heartbeat
would stay in suspense like a ‘coming soon.’
her: Room for laughter, room for adventure, every time it
seems i’m with this mysterious figure
him: Do I loiter and linger or just tell the truth?
her: His intelligence says he is honest, but maybe a little too
smooth..

He decides to break their resting silence by simply asking, “So.. do you want to get something to eat?”