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Section 8: He and his traveling
That day, he woke up early and made breakfast. After he finished, he picked up the bag which he had packed the previous night, then he put me in this small box with handles that he and his mother bought when they decided to take me in.
The door made a ‘thunk’ sound as it closed after us.
The sky was a beautiful light yellow as he carried me, in the box, down the road. The street was partly empty with the exception of shop owners setting up their store for the day. We also passed by some people who were having their morning exercise.
We went down a step of stairs and came in front of a machine. He proceeded to buy something from the machine, then after walking for another while, we settled down on a chair. To me, it seemed like he had done this so much it had become a routine, carved into his mind.
There were not much people around us. The box limited my sight, but I was pleased that I could see him from my spot. He was wearing his headphone today, humming to the tune he was listening to while keeping his eyes on the railway. Lately, I had noticed something about the headphone that had been bugging me for a while: I realized that the headphone was a pair with his friend’s one. The color was different though, with the friend’s one as white and his as emerald. Personally, I liked his much better.
Then, as I was watching him swaying gently to the rhythm, the train arrived. He quickly stood up, picked me up and got in the train. The door did not make a loud sound like our house’s door when it closed behind us. We continued with what we were doing when he had sat down, he and listening to music with his emerald headphone and me with looking at him.
I very much enjoyed his look in these peaceful moments.
Section 9: He and his pictures
I noticed that he had taken a liking to looking at and taking pictures just like I liked watching him. It was certainly not in a professional way, as he did not possess those cameras and numerous lenses I saw on TV. I also did not think that he was aiming for a career in photography but that was just what I thought. I was sure though, that he would be great at anything he put his heart to.
The first thing I noticed was that there were a lot of pictures around the house, especially in his room. Many of them were in frames and most of the pictures were him and his mother since when he was a small baby until now. Then others were of him and his friend, the one with the yellow fur. Little were of his mother with her soft smile and gentle eyes.
The pictures in his room were another type entirely and I was certain that he took them himself. Around the room were pictures of him, smiling brightly and very often with his yellow fur friend in the background or next to him, giving a small smile of his own. Then a lot of pictures were of a group of people I had never seen before. They were captures of many moments: when the group was in the uniform of black and orange, when they were in normal school uniform or when they were in casual clothes. Many were when they were playing with the same ball I saw him usually played with, some were of them eating, cleaning and even sleeping. But in every picture, all of them were laughing. I thought that it was nice. I thought that he must be very content to take such happy pictures.
Lately, pictures of me had become a part of his collection. He took my pictures randomly and suddenly, not that I mind. I very much liked the way he smiled at me after every pictures, the way he sneakily took a picture thinking that I did not know, the way he tried to get my attention when he wanted to take a picture of my face, the way he sat down next to me and patted my head before flashing out his phone and took a picture of my dumbfounded face. I felt happy that I got to be in his pictures, especially the ones that got printed out and hang round his room.
The second thing I noticed was there were a lot of pictures in his phone and computer. It was a random collection of objects that he casually saw and liked, flowers and plants that made him smile, people he met, other animals he came across and sceneries that he liked. And finally there was a file, in which he stored the pictures that he loved the most. I had not seen every picture that was in that file yet but I knew for sure that his mother and his friends were included.
After all, those were the most important people in his life.
(Little did I know, my pictures were slowly becoming a part of his special collection.)
Section 10: He and his silence
As time passed and I got even more familiar with him, I could tell the difference between his many silences.
The first type of silence was the one when he was affected by the weather, more specifically by the rain. When the sky started getting cloudy and lighting appeared, he would sometimes stop what he was doing and looked at the sky. For a long period of time, he would just watch the clouds moved, the leaves flew along the wind and drop and drop of rain fell down. He would tap his fingers on the window in the same beat as the rain. He would take pictures of the bubbles that appeared when the rain hit the ground. And he would silently smile as he hugged me in his arms and leaned against the window.
The second type of silence was the one that appeared irregularly. It did not have a routine and just came out of nowhere. He would be doing his homework when suddenly he would stop and look into the distance. He would be reading and abruptly closed it before staring at nothing in particular. He would be in the middle of doing anything when the silence came, its hand wrapped him and for a moment, he would be lost in another – in his own world.
At the moment, these two types of silence were the only ones I could notice. I thought that he and I both liked the silence as every time he came back from it, he would search for me before giving a small smile filled with happiness.