She walked right past him, the man in black. She didn’t even see him standing there, admiring her favorite painting. The painting that when she gazed upon it, nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. Some said it was unhealthy, her love of this beautiful work of art, but that’s the way she is. She understood it, it spoke to her in a language of love, hope, and encouragement. She tried to pass by it everyday, hoping it would tell her more, yet walking away with nothing new, content with what she had gathered before.
He saw this in her expression. The man in black could tell she felt it too. Felt the hope the painting gave him, he was running, running from who he was, running from those who were after him. She was his next assignment. He had to get something from her. Yet when he approached her, when he whispered in her ear he hoped that she wouldn’t. Wouldn’t see through him, fulfill the hope. Magic. She knew he felt it too, knew that he was harmless. He knew that he couldn’t go through with it.
Now their both on the run, but they have each other. He’s not running from who he is anymore because she caught him. He’s not afraid anymore, and she’s not alone anymore. They don’t ever have to be alone anymore. It’s not her against the world, she found him. She found him and he found himself. He knows who he is, and now together they will face it.
The painting was right, it’s always right, it never lies. Maybe you can transcend. Maybe everyone once and a while you can do it. Capture an essence and give hope, and just maybe that hope can be fulfilled. No more sorrow, no more pain. Only purity. Only light in an otherwise dark existence.
