The birds swarmed high overhead. The lovers held their hands, clasped tightly together, “Have I ever told you before,” the boy raised his eyebrows in wonder, as the girl’s attention was called to the low warm hum in his throat, “that all the computers in all the world, all wired together, could not send the same number of signals in one-second as just one human brain?” The birds continued to the place some of them had never been but all of them knew.
“No,” she said, “but I believe it.” The clouds swirled above the birds gently. It rocked the lovers’ hands back and forth, not by force, but as the rhythm it inspired. Their hands were still swinging to the tune as they paced the sidewalk back to their vehicle. The melody still fluttered in her heart as she sat on the couch, waiting and clutching the flimsy plastic in her hand, until it showed the blue line.
She couldn’t remember what she said to him. She cried in fear and excitement, all muddled together. Her stomach sank, weighed down with cherry pits. And it all burst into a warm winter’s fire when he hugged and brushed her hair and snapped her back into the moment.
“I have faith in you,” the words spiralled in her ear canal like a feather, tickling and warming her. It was just what she needed to hear. It was nice beyond the pleasantries. “Faith?” her tear-stained eyes pointed in confusion, faked somewhat for she already felt what he meant, just wanted to hear it explained. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” his eyes gazed cool and calm as water, dripping, melting her away in a cool spring, “I don’t know how this works.” He smiled sheepishly, “But I know that I don’t. And just because you don’t know how something works, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.”
“It’s just our best guess,” he laughed. And he shared the tickling laugh with the voodoo priests and the witch- and wish- doctors of centuries before.
He patted her tummy. It was warm and soft and it radiated even through the raggedy shirt. “I feel it,” she said. And she did.
Cole Webber is an average human being and aspiring ‘comprehensivist’ (as opposed to a specialist). He tries to think about lots of different topics or ideas, and translate those thoughts into things that are somewhat useful. He enjoys writing, drawing, painting and design.