It was mid-morning, the sun streaming in through a row of windows, casting light on bookshelves and paper streamers, and a dozen tiny faces peered up at Blue. All with sticky fingers and runny noses and wide, carefree smiles, parents huddled together, feet treading the edge of a multi-coloured carpet. All staring at him, some with amusement, others with confusion, wondering who this daft young man was. Too young to have published a book, surely. Younger than them, baby-faced and bright eyed. But here he was, book aloft, gesticulating wildly for the entertainment of toddlers, his voice sweet and lilting for some characters, low and gruff for others, chest swelling with pride when the group laughed in unison.
“And as the children, tucked into beds so neatly, tired from the day’s adventure, the birds sang their goodnight tune ever so sweetly.” Blue finished, and was met with a crescendo of pudgy hands clapping together. A dark-haired little girl in the back, mouth open and drooling, was startled awake. Parents performed muted little claps in the back, as though afraid to disobey the rules and puncture through the silence of the library.
Blue beamed, running a hand through his floppy hair, offering up a smile for everyone in attendance. As he lifted his head above the row of toddlers, to the place where he knew she’d be, the place where he felt intrinsically drawn, he offered Zara the biggest smile of all.
Children were scooped up into awaiting arms, and as they smiled and chirped their cursory ‘thank you!’’s after being much prodded from parents, Blue felt a pin-prick of longing in his chest, just a little. Blue knew he was young, but that still didn’t stop him from wanting.
He made his way through the crowd, clutching his book, to where Zara was waiting. His face immediately split into a wide smile, although he’d only been at her side a mere half an hour ago. It felt like too long.
“Hello again,” Blue greeted her, his free hand immediately seizing her waist. “Did you like it?”
Zara had heard And The Birds Sang Sweetly a million times, no doubt, but her opinion was still the only one that mattered.
