Perhaps

Debussy plays in the background. The foreground is awash in hues of gray as clouds swirl above. I stand in the middle of an open field and watch as the tall grass sways gently in fresh spring breezes. The moment is perfect. Nothing holds me back from singing at the top of my lungs and running with my hands punctuating the air in rhythm while brushing the occasional loose strand of hair from my face. I am disheveled; a telltale flush creeps onto my face. Stopping, I hear someone singing along. They know the tune; the harmony is bursting with life and intertwines perfectly with my melody. Though I cannot see them, I know them. Whispers echo across the warm air until my ear catches the message. Perhaps I am mistaken but no, it is undeniable. They know my thoughts, can understand why fresh tears spring to my eyes and without hesitation embrace my hand. Their face is a blur as we run towards the patch of sun in the distance. Though I run wildly about, the anticipation of what comes next creates concrete peace in my mind. It is more than I can ask for.