The Box

Digging the ground in a hurry worrying that the breeze might stop her. She looks towards him. Out of all the times she chose this one to let her eyes speak.

He knew what she was trying to say with those wet brown eyes. "I don't know when we will get out of here", he said to her. She continues to look at him in a hope that his eyes may convey something different from his lips. Ten seconds pass. With her hair being reminded by the breeze, she turns back towards the ground and continues digging.

He then thinks. That little box in her hands contains their entire lives. Am I leaving parts of myself behind or trying to save parts of me from the unavoidable change that will come, he thought. As long as there are pieces of his past in existence somewhere, may be just may be, he thought that that time could still be alive.

Each tear softened the mud below her face. She had to leave. He knew.

'So did you mash the potatoes?'

With wood and wild fire, the animals and them around it. They stare into the colors of nature. He turns to her and asks 'is there really anything in particular we are looking at?'. Her obvious answer was 'are we even looking?'. He decided he wants to make sausages in the fire. He takes out the grill stick, which has stories of it own, cover portions of it with sausages holding it over the fire.

This time it was her turn to ask a question knowing very well that he wouldn't or couldn't answer. Then again how many times do we really ask questions we do not know the answers to. Rarely. 'Are those the ones I like ?'

Removing two disposable plates, splitting the sausages into two portions. The earth stood still to describe this one scene. His eyes projecting a picture of him about to eat them in its perfect state with everything in exactly the right place around him. The cold increasing slowly enough for his mind to subconsciously rub his feet against hers. Them at the perfect distance from him, feeling the heat on his face and the ever so loud cry of the smell of a perfectly made sausage.
'So did you mash the potatoes?'

With the plates with only sausages they both put their backs to the ground and rest their heads on the small rock, they look at the stars through the altering tips of the wild fire. Since it was her turn again. 'So are we looking again ?'