Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
Oliver stared after her with loads of unvocalized questions and a tidal wave of uncertainty in his eyes as she went on to explain the dictionary definition of creation. Creation made it all sound a lot more complicated than chalk smears on rusting metal, like it should have been something more important than him just killing time. No wonder she thought that he should have used something more permanent. Creation, the word was large in his brain. It was chrome under shining light. Creation was impressive, but chalk? Not so much.
Everybody else always wanted to leave their forever-mark on the world, but Oliver liked it better when he slipped through the cracks. Maybe it was the environment he was raised in, where it proved to never be a good idea to draw attention to oneself, either when stealing something or just because standing out meant catching the eye of an inevitable temper.
Her questions were calling for a lot of self-introspection that Oliver hadn't been prepared for. His eyebrows gradually knit tighter and tighter as he consulted the chalky garden. "I don't know, I might want birds tomorrow. Don't you ever wake up like somebody else and want something different than the day before? Tomorrow, I might want birds."
She asked to hold the chalk and Oliver shrugged like he didn't care what she did. He motioned to the ziploc baggie on the ground, it was full of many colors, mostly broken.