[private] like an echo in the chambers of my chest; charlie

[caledonia]

there's a voice that pulls me stumbling through a symphony
and the less of it I need, the more I get

It’s been months since she has last seen him—years, perhaps. The quiet boy who had found her on her first adventure out. She thinks of him still, even if she cannot envision him. Thinks of the quiet way that he had sniffed at her and introduced himself. The way that she had to leave so quickly when her heart had started to race and she had known that her family would be looking for her soon.

But she had not forgotten him.

She hadn’t been brave enough to look for him, to try and follow the scent of him, but she had not forgotten him. Instead, she had tucked the memory of him away in the back of her mind. She revisited it often. Tried to imagine what he would look like, but mostly just thought of the way that her heart had felt when she had felt the warmth of him push against her like a gentle roll of the breeze.

She carries it with her today. Mulling about it as she wanders through the same meadow where she had first met him. Her pale legs pick through the wildflowers blooming and feels a rush of joy that she can now see them. That she can finally experience the wonders of this world as they are meant to be.

It’s then that she catches that familiar scent.

Her delicate head whips up and her dual-colored eyes—no longer milky or obscured—focus in on the figures that roam around her. She catches the sight of one young stallion, dark and splattered with white, and angles her head at him. Hope catches dangerously on the edge of her mind and she feels her voice die in the back of her throat as she takes a step toward him. “Charlie?”

’til I'm swept up by the shape of all the centuries
like an echo in the chambers of my chest

@[eucharist]