05-01-2014, 06:58 AM
There was a small sense of satisfaction in bending Tehya to his impulse for attention. He held onto the rope of her gaze until the natural course of time frayed the ends, and Eli released it to the eons of its fate with a thin smile.
A bullhorn sounded in the drifts of fog that isolated him and Tehya to their own little island of a platform, one by the name of Connor. He spoke of the weather, and Eli felt his attention roll inward again. After having been lured to the surface by the mystique of a woman so unlike any one he'd encountered before, Connor's comment on the weather forced Eli to retreat into the numbness of his own mind, but the subsequent comment suddenly broke the descent.
New Mexico.
Though not Utah, the geographical kinship between the two southwesterly states dredged memories across the mind's eye like claws on chalkboard.
Kenab shared a border with Arizona, but there was no delineation in the dirt between two giants of the country other than a weathered sign, but there was a deadening recognition for state lines for those raised on them. They were of no more significance than to discern which side of the border has the cheaper price of a gallon of gas and to confuse mail carriers, area codes, and tax payers.
By virtue of approximation, Kenab was also only an hour's drive to the Nevada border, beyond which, a mere two hours further, sprawled Sin City - Las Vegas - yet another destination he never visited. Only young men of the highest order of righteousness were deemed worthy to serve their two years surrounded by such disgrace; Eli, as neither a missionary or as a tourist, had any interest in seeing the oasis of the desert.
To the east two-hundred and fifty tedious miles, lay the border of New Mexico. The state from which Connor hailed and should spark a symbol of recognition for a Utah-born.
It very much did. "It doesn't matter,"
Eli muttered in response to Connor's question. The contortion to his expression was a twist of toleration dipping its toes into hate.
He had to wonder if Tehya's ambiguity was of similar grim nostalgia. Snow fell on the peaks of Utah, and other states closer than journeying to the opposide side of the world. A blanket of cold powder was more appealing than scorched tufts of grass, but he disagreed about the pleasantries of snow. There were more serene places to wander.
Eli stared downward like he could see the electricity of the rails sparking beneath their own metallic power. A deafness that was yearning he barely recognized overtook his senses. He missed his uncle; he missed New Zealand.
Some droned minutes later, movement pulled his gaze upward. A woman in hospital scrubs peeking out around her dingy coat sat herself on a bench across the platform. She paid the people opposite her no more attention than Eli might have given her, but for the fact that from the staircase behind her emerged a man with a hand in his coat pocket. A man likely with questionable motives.
She had no idea of his presence nor of an observer across the tracks. The man's footfalls were likely washed away beneath the noise of whatever filled her earphones. The oblivion continued until he put that pocketed hand against her head and leaned around her shoulder, uttering orders they could not hear across the wide expanse of tracks. Eli glanced briefly at Connor and Tehya.
"I think she's about to be robbed,"
he said with lukewarm interest.
A bullhorn sounded in the drifts of fog that isolated him and Tehya to their own little island of a platform, one by the name of Connor. He spoke of the weather, and Eli felt his attention roll inward again. After having been lured to the surface by the mystique of a woman so unlike any one he'd encountered before, Connor's comment on the weather forced Eli to retreat into the numbness of his own mind, but the subsequent comment suddenly broke the descent.
New Mexico.
Though not Utah, the geographical kinship between the two southwesterly states dredged memories across the mind's eye like claws on chalkboard.
Kenab shared a border with Arizona, but there was no delineation in the dirt between two giants of the country other than a weathered sign, but there was a deadening recognition for state lines for those raised on them. They were of no more significance than to discern which side of the border has the cheaper price of a gallon of gas and to confuse mail carriers, area codes, and tax payers.
By virtue of approximation, Kenab was also only an hour's drive to the Nevada border, beyond which, a mere two hours further, sprawled Sin City - Las Vegas - yet another destination he never visited. Only young men of the highest order of righteousness were deemed worthy to serve their two years surrounded by such disgrace; Eli, as neither a missionary or as a tourist, had any interest in seeing the oasis of the desert.
To the east two-hundred and fifty tedious miles, lay the border of New Mexico. The state from which Connor hailed and should spark a symbol of recognition for a Utah-born.
It very much did. "It doesn't matter,"
Eli muttered in response to Connor's question. The contortion to his expression was a twist of toleration dipping its toes into hate.
He had to wonder if Tehya's ambiguity was of similar grim nostalgia. Snow fell on the peaks of Utah, and other states closer than journeying to the opposide side of the world. A blanket of cold powder was more appealing than scorched tufts of grass, but he disagreed about the pleasantries of snow. There were more serene places to wander.
Eli stared downward like he could see the electricity of the rails sparking beneath their own metallic power. A deafness that was yearning he barely recognized overtook his senses. He missed his uncle; he missed New Zealand.
Some droned minutes later, movement pulled his gaze upward. A woman in hospital scrubs peeking out around her dingy coat sat herself on a bench across the platform. She paid the people opposite her no more attention than Eli might have given her, but for the fact that from the staircase behind her emerged a man with a hand in his coat pocket. A man likely with questionable motives.
She had no idea of his presence nor of an observer across the tracks. The man's footfalls were likely washed away beneath the noise of whatever filled her earphones. The oblivion continued until he put that pocketed hand against her head and leaned around her shoulder, uttering orders they could not hear across the wide expanse of tracks. Eli glanced briefly at Connor and Tehya.
"I think she's about to be robbed,"
he said with lukewarm interest.