Don't stop falling...
Please stop spilling...
I want to hurry and get closer...
I don't want the distance to grow...
Her feelings nailed him down. His love chained her to him.
His want and her want entwined yet never truly one.
The knotted thread of fate weaved a flawed fabric.
Take any hand you want.
"Ib! What's wrong? Come on!" A pang of worry jolted at his heart when he realized his little friend's attention was elsewhere. "Ib! Hey, what are you doing? Hurry up and come over!"
She looked at him, then at the woman in front of her.
"Ib! How many times have I told you?" Her mother chided harshly. "Don't go following strangers!"
"Hey, it's not scary, okay?" He urged, beckoning her to come close. "You'll be fine."
She was confused. Why would her mother be here? The woman looked very mad, too.
"Ib, listen to your mother!" The woman took a step forward, displeasure was burning in her eyes as she held out her hand. "Don't go with some stranger. Do you never want to see your mother and father again?"
"Ib, I'll pull you over!" He urged, seemingly unaware of the older woman's presence. The man reached out to her, his countenance full of anxiety.
She started to panic, looking at both familiar faces. She wanted to go home, to where her mother and father were. That was why she had traversed this twisted gallery with him, to get out together. But, if her parents were here. What was the point?
Her mother took another step towards her, reaching at her. There was something off about this woman in front of her. It felt wrong. But it was her mother...
"Come with me..."
"Grab my hand..."
She flinched away from the woman's hand, her arm stretched for him, fingers touching his palm. He smiled in relief, instantly encasing her small hand. "Alright." He breathed out, squeezing her against him.
His rusted tin soul brought taint to her glass heart.
He wanted to turn back, yet she wanted to go on.
The mended red string became shackles.
"Garry!" She tackled him from behind, hugging his waist and burying her face into his back. "Garry... Garry." She snuggled.
He smiled down at her, then averted his gaze.
"Can I stay over tonight?" The little girl pleaded cutely, looking up at him. "Please? Ma and Pa are going out tonight."
He was torn. What should he do? He didn't want to deny her of anything, but then...
"Please," her gaze casted downwards in a soft dejected frown. "I don't feel good with the paintings at home." She tightened her arms around him to calm the ugly churns in her stomach and blur the thoughts of malevolent unknowns beyond the frame.
He shouldn't have, but he did. He phoned her parents, letting them know that she would like to stay over. She showered and wore his baggy shirt. There was something wrong about him, severely wrong.
"Garry..." She whimpered underneath him, confused, disorientated, tearful.
He made a motion to touch her cheek, and she jerked away, quivering. His insides turned with disgust, but his mind barely noticed it. She was so lovely.
Why do you run from the hand you took?
If only spilled sand could fall back.
If only broken glass could mend.
Transparent thread, invisible string and elusive fate.
An hourglass shall reveal all.
Glass of Time