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Chapter 4

Pandora

The world moved flawlessly with the sound of song, poetry, and meaning. The five powers brought together once more for a weekly night of mingling, bending and folding the fabric of space and time; changing the world without doing a thing. So thus the stars hot glued to plaster swirled overhead as the midday sun sank below the conifers, bathing my back yard and open windows in florescent green as the unnatural colors of my room moved seamlessly with the force of powers little known to man. A party of powers, and the ever ceaseless will of destiny brought us together once more, as forevermore, and forever before.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the slanted ceiling as Danny sang along with the music, one-upping Adele in a hushed tone. Michael and Isaac sat in the corner talking about pixels and art, but most interesting of all were the words of a man from the body of a child; Chris spoke in smooth, cool tones as we talked about niche dynamics of literary analysis. Even the impeccably brilliant Isaac couldn't have wrapped his head around it if he tried.

Ultimately the day turned to night, and the scattered green light faded into darkness, and as it neared a moment, we all stopped and stared at the far wall. There was a small gap in the trees in my back yard, and every night, as the sun begins to dip low enough that it bathes the world in hues of crimson and scarlet, there is but one minute where that light is focused through my window, and cast upon the back wall of my room. Me and Michy had always loved taking pictures in this light, and for once we found me and Chris shoved together, cheek to cheek, as a cinnabar sunbeam cast light upon what I longed for with my whole heart.

I knew it was a rapid clicking noise, but something about that moment drew it out into a thousand. No picture could capture the intensity in my heart, no image could record the burning inside, and no words can fully convey the meaning of life as it was in that moment; that thousandth of a moment. The touch of his hand, the warmth of each green hair, bathed in the fiery heat of the sun, and full of a passion I knew not was there. The softness of his breath, stuttering but soft, frantic but collected. I knew mine was the same, and finally for the third time the shutter slid shut, and Michael showed us the photos.

Every single one, bathed in the rich colors of candy and lust, and somehow capturing the moisture on our breaths as we stared into an unseen sun. The image itself felt alive, like at any moment we were going to sigh in relief, no longer having to hold that position. Michael put the pictures on my computer and after five minutes of fiddling around with something he scooted away to show a gif of the images stitched together, fading in such a way that it actually looked like footage. It was truly alive, it was truly a work of art, and it was truly a work of magic.