by ty

prompt: picnic, food, field, sky, fluff.  

If I had to pick out something I wished to do with him, within a second I would’ve been sure that a picnic would suffice. Picnics were pretty perfect, all rounded recreational activities that give you bonding time, pretty good scenery to speak of and of course food. And food is beautiful because to eat is bliss and he loved food; not in the i-will-eat-everything-in-sight way where people would stuff their mouths with the scorching hot dishes available on a buffet spread for a sole reason of making their money worth or an aim to kill all of the food on their porcelain plates because of competitions or anything – no. He was a man who would appreciate even a crumb of bread for food was a privilege which was to be treasured. Afterall food is a given to several since we’ve been blessed in a well to do society but resources run low on our humble (now not so) planet which is indeed upsetting and a cause for worry.  A crumb of bread and the finest of pastries alike, he appreciated them enough. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he was beautiful.

I’d fiddle with a thin sheet of chiffon on the ironing board and let my thoughts wander a little occasionally, leading me nowhere but an odd yearning for a talk where there was no pressure, no time limit, just a field and us two left to our thoughts, thinking about how we each felt and from there having talks. Talks which were not superficial but rather deep down, the kind that would make one slightly uncomfortable but relieved after it ended; the kind which would allow you to confide in each other comfortably, which would allow you to spill your rotting beans, the kind where you could easily peek your onion layers off without a care – and perhaps you’ll find some substance in yourself and hey you weren’t just an onion but actually a garlic. And ironically enough there would be onions and garlics in your picnic spread which you would savour, the garlics a little more.

It would be beautiful maybe, it might be a flop ending with us being simply amused, or it might just get better with some rain. We would listen to the whirring of the breeze playing freely in the open field, the drone of cars going by beautifully on the gravel and if it drizzled with a sprinkle of luck, we’d listen to the sound of rain falling around us. It sounded absurd but it was worth a thought. And as though it had not been enough his features against the quick moving surroundings would’ve been more ravishing and distinct, not because they had changed overnight but rather they had been there all along – as much as it sounded odd, everything about him seemed close to perfection. It was not the kind of perfection which people deemed as best and would die for, disregarding the attitude and character of souls who fit the bill but rather a paragon of his own kind, a unique creature who was shining through in aspects different from the judging eyes of most people – he was, no is unique and beautiful and that was all I could say. And his beauty was lovely and pleasantly unrivaled.