I want to be a corner stone.

You know how some people are good at sports or singing or making people laugh? Well, Cara was good at climbing stairs. She climbed stairs with such vigour, and such a quiet passion, it was invigorating just to watch her. No one noticed her though, because if they did, they’d put her in a tower. It was a good thing, then, that no one noticed. They all thought she was good for nothing; but that wasn’t true, because she was good at climbing stairs. Everyone was just too busy to notice.

One day, as she was climbing stairs, she met a boy. His name was Max. He liked her average brown hair and her average brown eyes and her slightly above average ability to hold a gaze, so he said hi. She replied. He asked her where she was going; she said she didn’t know, so they both started climbing down. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of their shoes against the concrete, and he liked the click of her heels, and the way she said nothing, so when they were at the end, he asked her out for coffee, and because she didn’t know what that was like, she said yes.

When they met for coffee, he wore his leather jacket, and she thought that was rad, so she let him hold her hand. They made pleasant conversation. He said he was a painter, and because she liked art, she giggled at his jokes even though she had never giggled before in her life. When they had finished their coffee, they stayed sitting in their booth talking even though it was getting late and the seats had tears in the leather, even though the table legs were uneven and the barista who was looking at them had a lazy eye.

When it was time to leave, he offered to walk her home, and because it was dark, she let him. Then he told her about his family, so at the door, she kissed him goodnight. He blushed but hid it. Her heart glowed and he knew – because she kissed him again. They both smiled as they laid in bed evening-thinking about coffee and torn leather seats. He swore he would paint her, and she swore she would kiss him again.

You know how some people are good at sewing or cooking or making up band names? Well, Max was good at watching. He watched everything, but no one cared, because if they did, he’d be on a talk show. It was an unfortunate thing that they didn’t; the world would be a better place if people knew what he thought. They all thought he was good for nothing – just a man with a brush; but that wasn’t true, because he was more than a brush. Everyone was just too ignorant to care.

One day, on his way down some stairs, he met a girl. Her name was Cara. She liked the canvases under his arm and the paint stains on his shirt, and the way the corners of his lips were curving upward, so she kept her gaze. He said hi. She said she didn’t know where she was going, so he invited her to walk down with him. It was quiet, nothing but the faint light in their eyes, and she liked the way he smiled at her from time to time, and the slant of his canvases when he propped them up against the way; so when he asked her out for coffee, she said yes.

When they met for coffee, she wore her Sunday dress, and he thought she looked pretty, so he held her hand. They exchanged words and sentences and thoughts, more importantly thoughts. She said she was a librarian, and he thought that was dull, so he made a lot of jokes, and smiled when she giggled because it sounded adorable. When they had finished their coffee, they stayed sitting in their booth talking even though it was getting dark outside and the exit sign flickered every six seconds, even though a part of the seat had sunken in, and the old ladies with the gold purses were staring at them.

When it was time to leave, she bit her lip and smiled, and because an old man started smiling, he walked her home. Then she talked to him about divorce and the economy, so at the door, he kissed her back. Her eyes lit up, but tried to hide it. His blood ran like water, and she knew – because he kissed back harder. They both sighed as they brushed their teeth, pre-sleep pondering about old people and flickering lights. She swore she would understand, and he swore he would make her immortal.