Stitches once again had lied himself on the bed of green, cool, and yet firm grass mattress he had found refuge on so often before. The coming week after the first time, he had been glancing skyward in his work to search for his comfort. To his dismay, he had not been able to look upon the dotted outline of a face in the day, and sometimes he had been too worn from chores to make the trip out without coming back before morning, which he sometimes did. A peck over a year and six sevenths, he has continues his evening commute with the lady quite fondly and often enough to be frequent, and he had grown more comfortable sharing with her more of his thoughts, and the sparse feelings he had been able to experience in brief flickers.
"I think I found a friend." He told the the lady's face he had often been gazing upon in the night sky. He smiled and nodded as he had imagined her asking him if this was really the case, "Yes, I do believe so. Perhaps a few even, but notably there is one that...I don't know treats me different. Sort of like you, when I speak, I feel like she listens. There are some that listen, and the hear what I'm saying but...it's odd. They don't really hear it from me, or how I'm saying it."
There was a quiet moment in the night air, where the cool breeze tugged at his face to the south from his westward facing sitting position, like a surly mistress beckoning him to a warmer bed or company, and if the night was giving perhaps both. There was nowhere else this farmer would rather be, sitting atop this hill and speaking to one so often had been there for him within the cool indigo sea above him that blankets the sky of brilliant baby blue. His pale emerald eyes darted left and right briefly to observe their surrounding, the pattern of cracked and broken glass decorating his nearly colorless iris, as though they were about to shatter into tens of different shimmering shards and rebuild his eyes anew. They wouldn't however, ever stuck this way, ever stuck looking up. He added one lingering sentence to his talk with her as he rested his head softly on the ground, hands behind him for a pillow and one foot crossed over another, "I wish she was here though, so you could meet her too...Maybe I'll bring her here."
He closed his ever wide and curious eyes and breathes calmly and quietly through his nose. At once as he thought of his new friend, he felt the same uplifted spirit he felt the night he had stumbled upon a lady smiling at him in the astral plane. He felt warm, he felt safe, he felt as such that even his freakish tattoo and his horrid attempt to remove it were washed away. Was this the redemption the hooded man spoke of? To obtain friendship and compassion?
Whatever it was, it felt good, and there was no better bed than right here. Not in Bree, not in a home, not at Hengstacer. There was no better home than a friend to watch over you while you think of the one missing from your company, and plan to bring them next time.
