 Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?
Jonah's five minute break had drawn on much longer than he had intended, a fact that he was well aware of. But he felt just as tired as he had when he'd sat down, and that was not very motivating. Still, he had responsibilities to fulfill, and the world had not slowed down simply because he had needed to rest. He leaned forward, attempting to gather enough willpower to get up.
As he was doing so, another man sat down next to him, completely breaking his concentration. Jonah leaned back against the bench. He should be getting back. Why was he still sitting here? What was wrong with him as a person?? His quiet brown eyes drifted to the art supplies of the man (Finn) nearby. He knew a woman who sat on benches and painted, too... "Planning on setting up your art stuff here?" he asked by way of conversation. "I've been told that this is quote-unquote the 'tenth best-ever bench ever for painting ever'. Apparently. But I'd take it with a grain of salt." He cracked a rare smile at the word choice that his friend had used to explain it. How could anyone know whether a bench was the 'tenth best-ever bench ever for painting ever'? It seemed rather hyperbolic. "But the shops across the street do make a nice view, I suppose." |