Comfortable

Comfortable

Chris Holland looked up from his cereal at John. Chris noticed that John was standing again, as was his custom. As he sat eating his cereal, he couldn't help feeling his friend was staring at him. Those piercing eyes again, that seemed to hold within unending knowledge and yet total compassion. He was drawn in by them, yet felt like he was never left alone because of him. They accompanied him everytime he wondered.

They never blinked.

Always staring, always standing. Always out of the way. Holland might have thought his friend very peculiar if he hadn't known better.

He finished his cereal, pushing it forward and leaning back in his seat. Doing this, he separated himself from the half-full bowl. Though not yet content about his hunger, he decided to put it out of his mind.

"John, take a walk with me," Holland required. John slowly looked away, as if in thought.

"Yes," he responded as Chris stood and started to put on his coat.

They had been walking like this for what seemed like forever. Holland couldn't remember his life before meeting John, and he didn't want to. John was Chris's only comfort. Before he came...

He didn't want to think about that right now.

As John and Holland moved out the door, Chris noticed the way his friend walked. He seemed poised, yet always alert, ready for anything. It was almost as if John expected something to happen and was always patient in waiting for it. He looked up at his comfort's hair and once again admired the icy silver hair. His belt and a crest on his black shirt matched this cold tone. He noted how his friend always seemed damp. Almost like after a slight drizzle, his shoulders, head and back were wet.

"John, I'm so glad you talk to me and take walks with me. You truly are my comfort," Holland remarked, thinking he saw a smile out of the corner of his eye.

Although when he turned, and faced his comfort directly, he saw no expression in his face.

Holland reached down and grasped a rock. He threw it side-armed into the brush, noticing a few scattered children playing. He thought for a moment.

"What do you make of those children, comfort?"

John's facial expression begged an explanation.

"What do you think about them? Playing, running, enjoying life, really... really..." Holland reached as far as he could into his mind, searching for the correct word...

"using life..." he looked over to see John nodding.

His friend thought for a moment, looking down at the ground they walked on.

"They use life because they have so much of it left. Their lives are not merely a handful that must be used sparingly. They throw caution to the wind with one hand, and grab another handful of life with the other. They use life because it is available for use."

Holland pondered these words for a moment, and threw another rock at a steel gate beside them. He thought of the half-empty bowl he left on the table.

"But when their life-uses run thin?" Holland stopped walking, causing his comfort to stop as well. "What happens then?"

"Then? Then, they take walks and throw stones."