|Musing about the fraility
Of a vase pieced back together
After being smashed
Into smithereens
That pretend to be an intricate design|

Sunday|

I woke up to the warmth of sunlight against my face; soft, whimsical rays of gold spilling into my desolate room.

Today was one of my most beloved days. The day that I had a reason to smile at the sky and passers-by along the sidewalk, that I could stop by the flowers and memorise their beautiful fragrance, that I was free.

How I longed to be anywhere but my home of a mess -- the walls were streaked with stifled tears of a forgotten child and the floors heavy with the burden of a broken love. Everything held a painful past, and everything was driving me towards insanity.

But, it was, after all, my home, and just as a craftsman embraces the flaws of his pottery as the reason it is special, I have learnt to feel for that sad place a mild attachment. A feeling that it was where I sort of belonged, and that brought me comfort, in a queer way.

I stepped through the door that connected my home to the outside world, and took in the vibe of an upbeat windy morning. On every other day, the sheer prospect of spending 8 hours in a room with people who only cared for themselves was enough to colour a fresh new day a greyish blue. Its only redeeming grace was that school imparted knowledge and skill sets to you, and if I wanted to change the world, this was pretty important.

But today, today was different. It was Sunday, churchday, as I liked to think it. The sermons I would hear brimmed with hopeful assurance, like an oasis in a bleak wasteland. It gave me a reason to believe. That there would be a brighter tomorrow, one where the stars would shine braver than yesterday.

I slipped through the backdoor of the church sanctuary and turned towards the last pew, the empty pew, as I always did. My heart stilled, and we sang Amazing Grace in trustful abandon.

At that very moment, the church doors swung open. All eyes turned towards him instantly.

He looked new, at least, I hadn't seen him before. Something about him made my thoughts linger a second too long. Was it his knowing way, how his eyes were distant yet warm at the same time? They darted across the sanctuary with a calmness that washed over my heart, and I heard the waves crashing in my ears as his gaze met mine.

Kylar, quit staring!

I hurriedly turned my attention to the pastor, willing my cheeks to halt their noble quest of burning a bright red. Obviously they didn't quite care for my opinion, as I felt the blood rushing to my face. Nonetheless, I feigned my greatest look of nonchalance, rearranging my awestruck features back to their usual unamused demeanour.

I felt his figure moving towards me from the corner of my eye, and the empty pew I usually had to myself was acquainted with another being for the very first time.

Is he sitting right next to me? I mean there's space at the other end why- "Hey, is this seat taken?"

"Oh, no, no it's empty. It's always empty."

Crap that came out wrong.

"Oh great, may I sit here?" He broke into a smile, lips curved into the shape of a perfect crescent moon. My eyes met his gaze, and I felt my hand clasp the side of my neck self-consciously.

"Yeah, sure."

I did my best to smooth out the syllables of my words, hoping no traces of shakiness were detected. As he sat himself down, I couldn't help but glance admiringly at his firm, chiselled features. This beautiful stranger looked my age, yet he seemed to have come from a different planet. Where I'm from, nobody had this earnest, yet debonair aura -- it seemed we were all too afraid of showing our vulnerability. But he, he was different. He looked as if he truly loved himself, and believed that he could change the world.

He was magical.