Emily doesnt believe in Love. Its a simple fact. Its a chemical reaction in the brain. A trick to feel less alone. To believe in something that is good. A stomach can not be filled with butterflies it's simply not true.
And yet.
When someone dares to interrupt her from her own world writing furiously in a notebook attempting some resemblance of a poem as the world around her crumbles. She can't find it within herself to be upset.
The girl is young. Around the same age as her she guesses. Dressed all in black the girl looks out of place on such a bright and cheery day and she tries to argue with herself that the reason she has been staring at this poor girl is exactly that. The girl is out of place. And yet that can't be true.
If it was simple confusion would she feel like a bumble bee while the sweet smell of the girls purfume comparable to nectar of the worlds most beautiful flower.
If it were confusion would she feel the caterpillars crawling their way into her stomach, looking for somewhere to live.
If it were confusion would her voice be comparable to the song of the lark in the early morning.
The girl speaks again her voice a little confused likely because she is still staring but she doesnt hear it over the burst of poetry exploding in her brain. She quickly looks back down to her paper. It doesn"t seem so hopeless anymore.
The blank spaces on the pages dont seem so plain. Instead they are filled with the girls smile, her eyes, her odd black dress. And writing has neve felt easier.
The girl sits down opposite a curious look on her face as she watches now silently as she writes, not close enough or quite at the right angle to read the words and yet she stays and watches anyway.
Hours pass.
A shout can be heard from the distance, loud and shrill. Emily looks up from her writing at that and notices the girl still sat with the same curious look on her and she blushes lightly at the realisation.
The shouting gets louder and its becoming more and more obvious what they are saying. The name Emily becoming clearer by the minuite.
She stands up wiping the grass off of her dress and spots her sister calling for her to come set the table for dinner. With a groan she agrees.
Turning back towards the girl she finds no one. A piece of her paper and a pencil in the girls place. She picks it up a smile on her face as she reads,
same time tomorrow?-Sue
Emily doesn't believe in love at first sight. It's a simple fact. But she might believe in it at the second.