A comfortable silence, staring into the face of her's, a soft face, untouched by age so far, closed eyes, a soft mouth, calm presense. Already, I lost myself within it, framed within a beautiful ginger bob, a headpiece shining golden, and perhaps the most solid, largest tear crystal I've seen.
And after that, a curiosity pinged, and I took a step into the words of the abyss -- asked her to talk, a comment on the quiet nature. And then she started a bit roughly, but after that, went on and on, and it was obvious why. With already such an isolation built into her role on our society, I may of been the first person she could unload such thoughts as her's on. She glimpsed into the past, details of charity work, those small things. But never once, did anything negative come up so far, nor a mention of the intrinsicities of what she did now, the Pearl and all, that I hadn't even seen yet from my stay. All the while I commented, led her on, and then noticing the pattern just noted. And my words stumbled on one of those questions, perhaps I stabbed a bit too deep into her heart and worries at that moment. It was asking about the pearl, and a glance was taken down by my tea drinking partner. She noted that it was getting late, and I should be on my way before the moon rises. Oh, how hurridly.