A handful of little happiness

I looked at my feet and blushed. I was not quite used to his attention yet. There was something intoxicating about the way he looked at me. It was new in so many ways.

I had enough proof to admit that I was not normal. The way I saw the world was different, uncommon - something that I took pride in. There was chaos in me, drawing me into the unconventional crooks of society. This allowed me to be quite independent, and particularly fierce about my self respect. But, all was not peaches and velvet layered back skin of young spring leafs. 

Because, on the rare occasions when the universe inside me quietened down to a gentle ripple, I looked around to find myself standing all alone. 

A loner. 

After a while, you get used to the solidarity. It becomes your only reality. The bright colors and hidden secrets keep me occupied most of the time. The other times, you just hope life leaves you a little less scarred than before. 

It was one such day, where I had sat there licking my wounds, I received a rather unexpected knock on my existence. He did not actually seem to belong here. He carried an aura of someone in search of an explanation as to why he was lost. 

He had stared at me with politely incredulous eyes. As I explained to him the best I could about how there were not many people around this corner, that he should try somewhere else, he just shook his head. He apologized for the intrusion, but as he wasn’t going anywhere in particular, would I mind engaging him for a while? For the sake of curiosity? 

Oh. Okay, I said. He then asked me if I had known a rabbit called happiness? I remembered that rabbit. The one that hops everywhere. When you see him, you stay as still as you can. The happy rabbit, being very timid, had taken a while to get used to my presence. Time had flown by and soon the little rabbit was a regular sight around my block. I believe that the lack of habitation in my world seemed to have made it a safe haven for the hopping rabbit. 

I relayed this information to the stranger. He then cast around his eyes in an attempt to see if the coast was clear. He moved closer, digging his hands into his pockets. He pulled out something he held gently in his clasped hands. He whispered to me to take a look. There, nestled in between his fingers was a little rabbit. It's eyes were tight shut, and it had rolled itself into a tiny ball of fur, tiny tail wriggling in response to it's little rabbit dreams. 

The stranger, in his deep voice told me that he had found it, helpless and weak. But alas, if not cared for, it would die soon. It needed a woman's touch, you see. His eyes, deep as his voice, pleaded me. Then he used the latter asking me if I would try? He had searched and searched for someone, but hadn't been any successful at it. I was the first one he told me. 

His world must be just as quite as mine I assumed out loud. He threw his head back and laughed. Was it that obvious? he asked. He then smiled at me so expectantly; how on existence could I say no?

Now I live with him, and he with me. Our worlds are filled. More with us than the hundreds of little happy rabbits running around. 

Follow, and check out "Value" "Indignant" "Hues" if you enjoy short stories that turn your heart.

Picture credits for those it's due.