“You’re starting to lose the magic.”
“Excuse you?” She looked up at him, raised her eyebrows up a notch.
“Tell me, when was the last time you randomly walk into a flower shop? When was the last time you spend your time watching the sky turning from yolky orange into an indigo dusk? When was the last time you sit in a coffee shop, staring at all those passing cars outside and thinking about dusty dawn?”
Alaska paused. She opened her mouth but none came out of it. She inhaled deeply and stutters, “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you remember you used to talk poetry? You used to listen with your ears, your eyes, and your heart. You were a wizard with the pointy hat from across the road, happily playing with those cats and raindrops, you used to wave away your wand, saying hi to every passerby. You used to smile at strangers,” he continued as she stares blankly at the sky, avoiding his gaze.
He chuckled, knowing what’s on her mind. He knew this time she couldn’t deny his sentence. “You carried around your crayons, you loved the white one as if it’s the last man standing that guards its legacy bravely. You used to talk about it so happily I saw rainbow in your eyes.”
“I… I don’t know. It feels like all of my emotions are sucked into a blackhole of nothingness,” said Alaska. Her voice started to tremble. She hated it so much to face the fact that he’s right, “I don’t know what should I do?”
“Breathe,” he put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a sympathy pat. “Invite your melancholy outside for a stroll. Take photos. Read a poem. Or write one.”
“Find the magic dust!” he said, enthusiastly. He called out the Alaska he used to know. He knew that deep down somewhere, she’s there.
“You know what, Alaska?” he whispers with a voice deeper than before, “There are always doors for those who want to find them.”
Based on a true conversation between two good friends: Summer Durden & Alaska Norton, November 9th, 2015.