The chirping of birds filled my ears as I struggled to flutter my eyes open. 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯? Also, the bed was heavy. Although I was facing away, I knew Hannah was still fast asleep behind me—or rather beside me. The shining of the soft sun still made it difficult to open my eyes. Groaning, I reached over and grabbed the clock and brought it to my face. It was 07:00 on a Sunday. As far as I was concerned, this was a miracle. I hadn't woken up this early in the morning in so long, more so before Hannah.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Swings and waves and the sand and crabs—baby crabs. These pictures in my mind; like I lived a double life. Moving on, with certainty and my eyes barely opened, I thought what I needed was a change of scenery to avoid getting boggled up trying to squeeze my brain for something on my next sculpture. I laid on my back and switched the clock for my mobile sat on the nightstand. Adjusting the brightness of my mobile phone, I made a search on the Museum of Ms's opening hours; it was going to open on 10:00.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Sitting up, I felt as though I could use a little time on the patio swing until I decide to wake Hannah later. However, we didn't have a patio swing. We lived in a city apartment where my girlfriend and I could barely fit in the bathroom and there were more doors than windows. This could no way be a cosy bungalow. I didn't need to linger over such intrusive thought, I needed to make a quick breakfast and wake Hannah up. Then propose my idea of going to the museum where I celebrated a milestone and celebrated it with her especially. I hoped she wouldn't think this was out of the blue or worse: tell me to go by myself. I seemed like a little boy, but a little boy who was a joy to behold.

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I wiped off my hands on my apron and took it off. That didn't take long but it really wasn't much. Proceeding to our bedroom, I sat on her side and gently shook her. ''Hannah,'' I called.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She peeked at me with one eye under her hair and squinted. ''Good Lord, how long was I asleep? What time is it?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''It's only 7:30, babe,'' I said, almost smirking.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ As if astonished, she quickly pulled herself up. ''It's what? You're joking.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I'm not, I swear,'' I said, chuckling at her disbelief.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Why should we be up this early on a Sunday morning, man.'' She rubbed her face while her rhetorical question echoed in my head. I was contemplating whether this was my cue to ask her about our supposed museum trip.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I made breakfast, it's just the cliché bacon and eggs. Maybe we should go grocery shopping later, what do you think?'' This wasn't exactly the question I was hoping to ask, but it came almost instinctively.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Aw thanks, Andy. Something's got to you, huh,'' she replied, getting up, but ignoring my question or perhaps leaving it for later.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I went ahead of her as she washed her face while I readied the plates. I was already sat down when she groggily appeared.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''So, you woke us up this early so we can go grocery shopping, that right?'' she clarified, finally taking her seat. ''And, man, I feel like I'm high or dreaming, I need some water,'' she added, giggling to herself.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Dreaming. I had a strange dream, that must have explained the images popping up in my head. Most of which I'd already forgotten, unfortunately. But how important were my dreams, unless I had Freud to interpret it all for me?

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Handing her a glass of water, she nodded as she took the glass from me. I asked, ''You aren't sick, are you?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Oh, no, I definitely can go grocery shopping with you. Don't worry, babe,'' she reassured me, evidently misinterpreting my concern.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Well,'' I tried to begin while I'd barely swallowed my food. ''I was actually thinking if we could pass by the museum, it is along the way.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Your Lady sculpture!'' She pointed a fork at me and showed a reminiscent smile. ''Is it open? We definitely should pay her a visit.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I simpered at her enthusiasm and replied, ''Yeah, it's open from 10 AM to 5 PM.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Wiping the sides of her mouth with a napkin, she said with a beaming smile, ''Great! So, we can go around say... lunchtime, yeah?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Refraining from protesting and insisting going earlier like I'd hoped, I stretched my closed lips and gave her subtle reluctant nods.

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After shutting the trunk filled with groceries, I walked away and she strode to me and locked one arm around mine while the other swayed freely on her side.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Shielding her eyes from the bright sun with her free hand, she turned towards me and said, ''We really should have brought the umbrella, huh.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I found myself paying no attention to her and continued on with my decisive steps. She would look around as if she was looking for a place to stop by; like a car on a road-trip running out of gas and looking out for a stop. There weren't many people out like there would typically be on a good Sunday.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ We finally arrived at the museum and Hannah pointed at the fast-food a few blocks away and suggested we eat lunch there after we visit the museum and that she was starving.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ They didn't charge us admission as it was a benefit for having my artwork displayed as a permanent exhibit. It was only a little over three years old, but I was pretty sure my Lady was going to outlive me.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I was a fresh graduate and, to be frank, no academic honour could top being granted the permanent exhibit. It was like a lotto; hoping to be granted that out of nearly a hundred other hopefuls. But at the same time, it had to be earned and so, I'd like to think I earned it.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ When the news first broke to me, immediately after I had arranged it all, I invited my family. However, I made the mistake of mentioning Hannah, a waitress then, and that she was coming and a romance was indeed blossoming between us. But was it really a mistake when the toxic people finally voluntarily cuts off from my life? My only younger sibling and little sister, Emily, was an exception, though. She stuck with me through thick and thin; like I stuck with her against our brat older siblings.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ On that special day, Hannah's presence felt enough for me anyway. I could only imagine the anxiety my family would've brought to spoil that day for me. One supportive person was enough for me. I would've loved Emily to have come as well, but she was on a long-planned vacation and my good news broke unexpectedly; as I never really would've expected it.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ The day after my Lady was showed at the exhibit, Hannah baked a cake inspired by it—and she was by no means a baker. From my Lady's seashell crown to her clear veil that goes smoothly and seamlessly over her crown, face, and then down to her ocean-like dress which ends into the hem that is spume-like. However, it was less of a sculpture that you'd expect on 'Cake Wars' or any other food baking reality TV competition, and more of a drawing over a plain cake with all the frosting she could find. ''I had to colour in the Lady, I know the beautiful grey-white of she is what gives it mystique, but well--'' I hushed her and told her it was okay, it was beautiful, and it was enough. She continued with a shy smile, ''Glad you like it!''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I was obviously reminiscing the good times and began to tear up—as corny as that was. In the corner of my eye, I saw Hannah look away from my Lady and to me, and somehow got the idea that I was being reminded of the hurt my family caused me then; which was only half-true at most.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Oh, Andy,'' she called in a worried tone. Wrapping into my arm and rubbing my back, she continued, ''You know they don't deserve you, right? It's their loss.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I just nodded at her and barely responded with: ''Yeah, you're right.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Absolutely... And you'll always have me, I'll always be right here.'' She was then rubbing both my back and arm which she was clinging on but at the same time felt like she was slowly tugging at as well. '' Maybe a good meal will take your mind off of those memories, yeah?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I showed her a slow blink in approval and looked away to give out a discreet exasperated breath—𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. Although, not explicitly spoken of—or even acknowledged internally—then, I was indeed getting riled up by her worries, and she disconcerted me.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Succumbing to her suggestions, which almost felt like demands, I brought my hand down to clasp hers and pulled her to the way to the exit. Desperately hiding the disappointment in my face. I had really wanted to look at my Lady a little while longer.

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At the fast-food restaurant, she ordered a double-patty burger and a banana & chocolate shake. I don't remember what I ordered, just as I don't remember anymore exactly why I even invited her out.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ All I remember was her response to me. ''Maybe you should see a psychologist, Andy,'' she, the girl I needed most and all I really had, said to me that day,

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

''I don't know what I should do with you,'' I say.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Why do you think you should anything with me?'' Juno wonders.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I need you but--''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''But what, Andy?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I look up at her with furrowed brows. We were seated on the floor, but a holographic floor. I look behind her and the walls are holographic, too. Swirls of silver and pink and blue cloud my vision; with my every head movement, they distort along. I stand up and am well aware of my footsteps, but I feel it would be more appropriate if I were floating instead.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''How do I float here?'' I ask Juno, who is behind me, away from my sight.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''What are you talking about, Andy?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''How to float...'' I trail off, evidently losing my train of thought.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''No, about the doing and the needing?'' she reminds me, pulling my left shoulder to face her.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ We are both standing and facing each other now, but in an empty white-walled room. Only a burnt-out lightbulb between and above us.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I finally look her in her brown eyes. ''I just wanted inspiration, Juno. That's all I needed so I can do.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Do what?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I point out a window where my Lady sculpture was. I want to go out and look at her closely, however, there aren't any doors.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''We can go out through the window?'' Juno says as if reading my mind.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ We start on our endless stride towards my Lady sculpture. I want Juno to know about my family and their lack of support. I want to tell her about Hannah and how she's always been there for me. 𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Juno brushes her flowing dark locks away from her face and shows me her clear face to tell me that she understands. ''No man is an island,'' she adds a classic quote.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Thank you,'' I say back and I am met with her left-cheek dimple again.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''You may not find the words yet, but feel free...'' she trails off and gestures to a short wooden platform on the grass; a mic stand propped right in the middle.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''But where's the mic?'' I ask as she spins around in her white Sunday dress and presents me a microphone.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Wireless,'' she points out with an excited smile. ''So that you won't get tangled, Andy.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I laugh at her joke—if it is a joke anyway—and walk backwards to the tiny stage, with all my attention intently on her.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Placing my mic on the mic stand, I look at her for reassurance. She sits comfortably on the soft green grass and flashes me a smile.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I don't care if this mic is connected to an amplifier nearby. I let a satisfied sigh from me be the first thing the microphone picks up.