Eve

With every word he wrote he wondered if it meant something, or if it could indeed exist to create a subtle, yet superficial definition within a sentence. If he turned the letters backward, what would they mean? If he created a puzzle of words across a dashboard would there be a new story with every string of words he could make? In his room, he awaits an answer as the ideas flood his mind and begs to one-day find release. Then, as his greed settles in, he remembers that the only reason why he cares so much about words is that he wants people to see him as above them for using them in a demeanor only known to him.

"There is more to you than your name," I told him once. There are times when I recount every time I said it and wonder if that's how many times he's listened to me. Anytime when he truly, whole-heartedly listened to my voice as foolish words that only played out correctly in my head spilled out into the open air.