[ Exactly. Perhaps the warmth in his voice is at odds with the gravity of their conversation, but it's there, and it's real, nevertheless. ]
I like your spirit, Makoto. Call me Pinocchio, if you please.
[ For a moment or two, he sits here basking in the unique experience of feeling like he's come to a mutual understanding. That, for a change, he can truly relate with someone in a meaningful way. He doesn't have to try to shave off his strange edges to fit in with someone else's expectations, to make himself more appealing and convenient.
They're different. Their lives could be so easy if they conformed to the shapes that slotted in effortlessly with the gaps around them. Makoto is uncompromising.
He likes that. ]
You need not decide right away, but I have a request to make of you.
[ He thinks of the message carved into the withered trunk of a tree, standing alone in a park clotted full of the decaying dead. ]
no subject
I like your spirit, Makoto. Call me Pinocchio, if you please.
[ For a moment or two, he sits here basking in the unique experience of feeling like he's come to a mutual understanding. That, for a change, he can truly relate with someone in a meaningful way. He doesn't have to try to shave off his strange edges to fit in with someone else's expectations, to make himself more appealing and convenient.
They're different. Their lives could be so easy if they conformed to the shapes that slotted in effortlessly with the gaps around them. Makoto is uncompromising.
He likes that. ]
You need not decide right away, but I have a request to make of you.
[ He thinks of the message carved into the withered trunk of a tree, standing alone in a park clotted full of the decaying dead. ]
Would you like to try being... friends?