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There were galaxies and comets and millions upon millions of universes. There were planets, Mars, Venus, and Pluto. There was earth, the planet of humans, and of the organisms that humans can understand. In a continent, on a planet, inside a galaxy within a universe, there was a boy who stood inside of a forest. A boy with polished ivory piano keys for teeth and a voice whose depth rivaled that of the Pacific ocean. He was waiting, but he did not know what for. He was there. He was real, and he was small. There were things that were much bigger than him, things he understood and things he did not. By comparison, he was small. He knew this. But to him, he was humongous, enormous, a disfigurement in his forever expanding universe. His mind was too big for him, and so he stood, and he waited.
The forest was teeming with trees, all interconnected by vines and by animals that flitted from tree to sapling to shrub and back again. There were stones, rocks and boulders, all covered in moss and minuscule insects. They were smaller than him, and they were alive, bringing the forest to life with their constant activity, unrelenting movement. He could hear water, probably a stream, his mind supplied. He could not see it, but it was there, just like him. He did not know what he was waiting for.
A gust of wind rushed past him, and with it came an onslaught of activity. He became hyper-aware of the rustling of leaves and quick flapping of birds wings as they flew to a new branch, having been startled by the sudden movement. He watched the skyline, taking in a beauty that he was unable to understand. He saw hand-painted butterflies with wings of silk, and small, metallic green insects. He saw because he was watching, not because they were particularly distinct or amazing. He saw because he was there, an observer in a forest.
He watched with eyes swimming with frustration, an emotion that overflowed and dripped down his cheeks, onto the forest floor. He looked down at the tiny wet patches in the dirt and saw how quickly they dried. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He felt like screaming into the silence of the trees, but his mouth remained shut. He continued waiting, for as of now, that was all he knew. Waiting was easy, and so he stood, still waiting, unmoving in a forest infinitely bigger than him, in a universe so big he could not even begin to understand it.
A twig snapped, but he had not moved. Leaves crunched under human feet. Human? Yes, the footsteps were too heavy to belong to any rabbit or fox. He was surprised.
He had not known what he was waiting for, but now he did. He understood. He said a silent thank you to the trees, to the animals and insects, to the planets and comets and universes. He was here, and he was real, and so was the other.
“Hello?”
He heard it, loud and clear. A voice, belonging to someone else. A real, tangible thing. A human voice, speaking in a language that he understood. The word echoed in the chitter of the forest. He smiled, for he was done waiting.