Meadow

☁

Sabran listens, her dark brown eyes growing big and wide with wonder at Zevulun’s every word about Atlantis. The way he describes the island is inspiring, but it is not just the words that strike her, but the passion and admiration in his voice. She tries to imagine the exotic foliage he describes, or the exact shade of the water, but she finds it near impossible. There is something stirring about listening to someone so enthused about a place.

“Wow,” she breathes, enraptured. “That sounds… fantastic.”

For perhaps the first time, she finds herself genuinely excited at the prospect of venturing afar to see these things.

Zevulun’s reply takes her a little by surprise, naïve as she could be. She feels warmth flood her skin and prickles a little with embarrassment. His enthusiasm is not something she is familiar with, and though she is not experienced enough to identify it with certainty as flirtation, she certainly feels the sparks he is giving off instinctually.

She looks down for a moment at his words, the weight of his gaze suddenly heavy. She feels fear and excitement wrestling in her chest, an anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her instinct at first is to say no, as it so often is, but she stops herself – forces herself to consider. In her head she hears her sister’s voice, and she makes an unfamiliar decision: to be brave.

“I think I would like that,” she said, a nervous smile on her lips. “When are you free to be my tour guide?”