B was talking, and looking somewhere.
G followed B's eyes, but couldn't be sure where they landed, and how far away, and if they even landed at all, or just briefly, and if it was even relevant, if they were connected to what B was saying.
G asked: where do the words stop and the silence begin?
B was wondering what G's silence meant, but carried on talking, noticing -- with something that wasn't exactly B's eyes -- that G was somehow tense, as if G's edges were slightly too tight for the insides.
B asked: which were my words and what did G just hear? -- but carried on talking, slightly quicker.
G followed the movements of B's hands, flowing fingers, as if there might be clues in the streams they made through the air, as if it might unravel the meaning of what B was saying.
G was wondering: where do your words stop and mine begin? how do i know i'm hearing you and not me?
G was listening very hard to the rhythm, the tone of voice, the pauses, the cadence, the phrases -- listening for clues, trying to understand -- listening and looking so hard that it was more like pushing -- pushing the air against B -- air that G seemed to have frozen into a solid block, that was rocked by sound waves and hands and eyes.
B was still speaking, trying harder to explain, as if that might smooth out G's skin, which seemed to have crystalized, making an echo of B's words, bouncing them back in two parts.
B said: i've been practicing saying this, but now i can't remember which version to tell you. i need to make sure you understand the things that happened to me, that i've done, and how it all fits, and the significance of each thing related to another. last week, last year, and before. there needs to be a clear narrative. but there are so many versions. i've been practicing this.
B said: i want you to hear, so that the words will have landed, anchored: so that i can land in them. i need you to understand how i came to this point, otherwise i don't know how all of it can fit together in one being, and i will be hundreds of glass shards drifting through the air. i want to feel like you see me so that i can sense my edges, and then i'll know how i feel inside them, otherwise i'll float away, you will lose interest, and i'll slide between the floorboards. it won't become real until you've heard it. i've been practicing this, but which version. i don't know my narrative. and if you don't hear it, how can i relax? how would you know what to do?
B asked: is G even listening?
exasperated, B trailed off, a sentence run out of steam, bent sideways to corner.
G moved without moving, contracting their skin into tiny, prickled pockets.
something inside G fell down as if knocked off balance, crumpling on the floor.
G said: i just want to see you. i want you to know i'm listening, that i won't let you slip, that i'm holding the air. i'm worried that you'll think i don't care, that i don't understand. i'm afraid i really won't understand, and i'm trying so hard to listen -- so hard i'm paralysed. and now you're disappointed and i'm afraid you'll be annoyed and leave.
G said: i don't know what to say. how could there even be any answer to you -- how could any words match?
G was locked in silence.
B was watching G look from leaf to leaf, as if the trees contained a not-quite-discernible answer to a not-quite-formed question.
G said: i don't know what i could tell you that you don't already know. anything i could say would be so obvious. it would be either too trivial or utterly inadequate. there are no clear lines. where do the trees end and my words begin? how can a feeling be a word? how could i possibly tell you how i feel? how would i know where to start?
G said: i just want to see_hear you, and then i'll know what to do, then i can relax. but your edges are not clear. and i don't want you to see me. if i show you, who knows what you'd do. let's just talk in parallel. let's not talk at all.
and then, G asked B a question.
and B was silent.
after some time, B said: i really want to be boring. i don't want to make a narrative. you can see whatever you like. i hear you
G said: look at me. listen to the trees. you can hear whatever you like. i see you.
