Pop Song (Green)

Of all the things that Green loved about Blue, it was his mind she loved the most. The way it would move and tick like a freshly tuned grandfather clock, churning out all those new concepts, schematics, formulas, and plans. He never blinked between these thoughts — the action itself would disrupt his thinking — and he would be too lost, too focused on the process to notice his dry red eyes swelling as they cried out for moisture. 

Green thought his concentration was the cutest. Blue’s red eyes were the closest she had ever come to purple dreams, the kind she’d had for as long as she could remember.

One day, Blue and Green were talking. Blue said, “I was thinking about making a device that could mimic you in every way.” Green smiled that quizzical smile, the same one she often did when confounded by Blue’s latest eureka.

“That’d be nice,” she said. “But why would you need a device for that when you’ve already got me?”

“Because sometimes we need everything from someone, and I never want to expect that much from you,” he said as he sketched out his plans with a stick in the sand. “And you’ve got to have a little bit of everything to satisfy all the minds of today.”

Of all the things that Blue loved about Green, it was her mind he loved the most. The wild, frantic ways it moved, like water carving its own path through the hillside, and her every non-sequitur a flower incidentally fertilized along that path. With every thought she kept him grounded, balancing out the hypotheses and theories that poured out of him like hail. 

Blue knew that Green hated it when his thoughts went past her head, as often they did — past the pools beyond their home, skipping water like stones and splashing against the far-off purple sky — but Blue thought this was the greatest part of their relationship. They fed off one another, balanced their disparate but equally over-active minds, and this was the anchor for which they both had longed before they met.

One day, Green inquired after his latest invention. Blue had built a device that could mimic her in every way, so she would never have to offer more than she could give him. He tried to explain this to her, but found his words failing. He fumbled, trying to catch the thoughts that exploded from his mouth before they hit the ground, and finally asked her, “Can you hear me when I’m thinking?”

Green said, “No, but I was thinking about making a device that could do just that.”

And together they swam in the pop song waves of that small house near the stream, knowing full well that every song would be played precisely in its own way, exactly as it was meant to be — never any better, and never more right.

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