We Are Bound By Symmetry

Itty Bit 4
She sang, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to breathe again.
Her voice sounded like curly haired kittens and balsa wood - structured but gentle, nourishing.

"This song," she whispered, "is about bones and the sympathy we must carry for them. For you see, no bone is ever given. They are taken, stolen. And therefore everyone of them is haunted."

She sang, and I wasn't sure, but I think she glanced at me. Intentionally. And when I saw her eyes I really saw her. All of her memories, the stories behind her scars, the loves she'd lost, the loves she'd purposefully let go of, and the strength she carried in her soul.