“How many times would you say you’ve looked up? Like at the sky, and felt something. Sudden meaning or an answer to all of your problems?”
“76,892 times.” I replied. I looked at her. Then I looked up. “Make that 76,893.”
She grinned for a moment, then the wistful expression on her face came back. “I think it’s dumb when people say the sky is beautiful. It’s the most neutral thing in the world to me.” She said as we both took a seat at our usual bench. There was a point to be made here. I don’t know what it is yet but we’ve been friends long enough that I’ve become quick at picking these things up. And when she started off her conversations like this, it usually means she wants to get something off her chest.
“I think the sky is more like a mirror.” she continued. “You see in it what’s inside yourself. So whatever you feel when you look up is a reflection of what you’re feeling on the inside.”
“What do you feel when you look up?” I asked.
She took a deep breath before looking upwards for her answer. After a few moments she replied.
“Restlessness.”
Scripted Journal 