Canary

A story became of the ink flowing from that chewed up pen she had to dig for in the bottom of her bag.

With her level of focus she could spot a canary in a fucking ocean.

Not to say that you'd be able to find a canary in the ocean, considering it's not, in fact, an aquatic animal,

but just that the level of concentration etched across her furrowed brows decided that in this universe we were in,

there's a single canary in the entire goddamn ocean and she could see it because she paid attention.

She was so undeniably cool and awesome, and I wanted her to know that,

but I, along with everyone else in this god forsaken school, lacked the confidence- no, the intelligence to open my mouth and tell her to her face.

So we sit and watch as she sits, creates, and leaves.

Quietly elegant, lonely, but never sad.

I wished nothing more except for this girl to find herself in that ink from her pen.