(Open) Speak Of Hope, Not Of Illness.

Each person has a life of their own. A story that fits the years they have lived.

A tale of wonder and adventure behind every door.

What better place to go than one in which many gather in one area for a common purpose?

Every once in a while I may introduce myself to someone and a conversation starts.

That conversation also might start into stories.

I like meeting new people. It is interesting.

I'm sitting on one of the mall's benches. Drawing someone asleep and falling through the sky.

At least until someone sat next to me.

After purchasing some necessities from the outdoorsy store upstairs and the herbal shop, I look for somewhere to sit. I've been on my feet for a few hours and in these flip-flops, that fact gnawed at my conscience. My dusty soles were waging war about my unfair treatment of them and were starting a union to protest.

I come across a bench to which is half occupied but my feet don't care and neither do I. I hastily sit next to you, nearly tripping over myself, and falling on my ass on the bench. I turn to you with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry....I hope I'm not bothering you by taking this seat, sir. I know people like there space so....I would hate to trouble you by infringing..."

I bow quickly, patting the back of my head nervously. I have a major complex with guilt. Due to past...mistakes.

The paper gets filled more and then the space on it increases as my eraser moves back and fourth.

Damn cloud-get that the hell out of here.

The noise of close-by flip-flops are easily detectable through the dense wave of sound around me.

And then I feel a large thud.

At least large by someone mentally adjusted to steadying as many self-made vibrations as possible's standards. The thud is a bit smaller than what could be a normal tired plop.

Small thud-however, quick. It was a plop but the small amount of shake suggests a small body. Usually, a plop suggests exhaustion as well.

Small body and flip-flops. Likely female. I like flip-flops but more women wear them than men and most smaller people are women.

The fact that she so easily sat next to me suggests she either ignorant or sociable.

I look toward the disturbance to find a small girl.

In the words of Macklemore, I say wut-wut wut wut!

2/3 suggested possibilities are correct.

'I'm sorry...'

FACK!

I'm glad she's nice but I was still wrong on 1/3 of my prediction.

A reassuring cheer hints through my voice.

"Oh, don't be sorry at all. You could probably sit three of me here so there's plenty of room."

Probably four of five-if you squeeze in-of her with that scrawny body.

She looks young. I wonder how old she is.

"You don't need to apologize for sitting on a public bench."

I give a little smile and finish the last cloud.

Yeah, that's right!

*English* Getchyo ass in line! Take that-chya A-hole cloud!

"I don't mean to cause any disturbance but how does this look?"

I hint at a smile and then go back to my usual dream-trance, faraway expression.

"Oh?"

Inclining my head, I peer at the drawing.

"Hmm...it's very...very minimalist in style. Simple. The white and slightly greyish colors add a serene quality to it to which otherwise people might have thought the scene was morbid..."

I sort of lose myself in the drawing, staring blankly at it.

So, she got the minimal amount of paper coverage I was going for to make it less cluttered-looking.

She must be some type of artist as well. Interesting.

"Actually, the sketch being only in pencil is just because I'm both too lazy to color my pictures and I don't feel like carrying more supplies."

"...Mostly the first one, though."

...

She sure is interested in the drawing...

...

...

H-hello?-No, don't say that. Make it...interesting..

Naturally, my personal studies of people get in the way of doing things conventionally and I slowly start to tilt the drawing.

How uni-focused can you be, I wonder? Let's take you to your point of break in which you'll think of either looking at it from a different point of view or balancing to keep the same point of view and you will snap out of it on your own while still being not of your own will.

You tilt the picture slightly yet no response. I've induced myself into a sort of meditative trance due to a trigger memory. I feel myself go farther and farther away, my breathing slowing as well as my eyelids going lower under the horizon. Once closed, my eyes are engaged in REM and my head slumps forward as I reenact a scene under my breath as two characters.

Are her eyes closing?

Shit-I broke her!

The girl's eyes shut as I set the pad down.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey-look at me!"

I grab where her arms meet her sholders and give a single shake.

I open my half lidded eyes in fear and surprise.

"H-huh?! What's wrong?! Why are you shaking meeeee-?"

...Hmmmm.....

I pick up the pad and show it to the girl again without speaking.

I look up at you confused and edge away a bit.

"I...I should probably go..."

"Hold on a second, are you alright?"

Does she even remember the past few seconds before...well-the past few seconds?

Dammit, what even caused her to slip into...whatever that was?

Am I being trolled? I swear, if she's trolling me then she's one of those idiots that wouldn't know what's actually funny if Dimitri Martin performed stand up right in front of them, I'm going to be annoyed...

"You like, shut down after you saw the drawing..."

I shake my head and massage my sinuses with my index and thumb. My bag had slipped off my lap and out slid a copy of Lenny Bruce's standup performance at Carnegie Hall.

"I dunno. Just sort of zoned out... Fuck."

"That..I'm pretty sure was a little deeper than zoning out."

Nobody closes their eyes while being zoned out. Their mind usually interrupts when it notices too much of a change in scenery when it all turns to black and then you wake.

This girl is either hiding something from me to keep me calm or she really has a talent for losing herself.

I reach down and grab her bag, as well as her video of some guy from the early side of the 20th century and hand them back to her.

Stand up? I wonder what stand up back in that generation was like.

"Your eyes straight up closed."

I put my hand in exasperation.

"Goddamn it, if you want to pry so much, I'll guess tell you!"

I was getting worked up. Really worked up. My face was getting red and I am literally shaking like a toothache. I usually don't get so defensive but from being tired and confused and frustrated, anyone gets that way.

.....But seriously...why am I twitching so much... Stress. I'm leading myself into another seizure! I just can't calm down to even speak and I just go...blank.

All of a sudden blank. I had a mini seizure during the flashback. I zoned out and closed my eyes afterwards because I was even more worn out.

My head ticks in a violent repetitive fashion and my body follows suit, convulsing moderately but still visibly shaking. I'm biting the sides of my tongue and even crumpled on the floor, I have my eyes on you.

'Goddamn it, if you want to pry so much, I'll guess tell you!'

"Hey, I wasn't trying t-..."

"H-hey, miss?"

I notice the girl start to get red in the face and start to shiver.

For the first time, I read her eyes. Not to see her but a subconsious look into her body to run a mental diognostic.

I see obvious hurt-for the reason, I know not-, rapidly-growing confusion, and much anxiety. 

For some reason I also see a partially-broken soul. Much hurt unrelated to the situation at hand.

So much anguish...

Her eyes lose focus and all connection to her mental state is severed. 

Oh no.

"Miss? Miss?"

Her eyes shut once more.

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the sight of it.

"H-ey!"

One-no-two catch a glimps of what is happening and hesitate their step.

The girl's head ticks again and again before she starts moving fully with it.

And finally, she falls over before I can even catch her.

I lower myself with her and kneel on the floor. Supporting her head.

"Hey-whoa!"

Her eyes open and stare beyond me. As if right through me.

"Doctor-DOCTOR!-SOMEBODY GET ME A DOCTOR!"

"Please-someone help me! Anybody! Please! Call 119! CALL 119!"

The feeling of the girl violently shaking against me brands itself into my mind...