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The Lion's Den


He is fire.
He is water.

Happy his namesake represents fire.
Overjoyed that one of his hands holds the symbol for water.
Disheartened that the other is missing a line for fire.

I look at my own hands.
The weathered creases and marks.
I don't see anything special.

"1 and 8!" he laughs.
Tracing the numbers lightly with his fingers.

They just look like dents to me.

Tracing the line that runs across the palm of my hand.
"1 in 50." I say.
Not that remarkable.

"I wish I had one of those."
I smiled.

But his eyes were stunning.
Far more interesting.
"They look like everyone else's."
He pointed to some people surrounding him.
"But they hold so much more."
He smiled.

He looks at his missing line again.

Missing someone, something, for passion.
He knows it.
He doesn't have that line.
That person.
To fulfill his passion.
To give him passion.

He draws the imaginary line on his skin.
Wishing for all of it to click;
Gears turning counterclockwise.
Against his will.

He knows all of these equations.
But can't add it up.

He wishes.
To be among the stars.
Connect the dots.

But his eyes hold all of the stars in the skies.
Deep voids of never ending brightness.
Though they are dark.

The wish-
It comes true.

He has left.
He wished to be among three galaxies.
Ignoring me.

So I look up.
The best time to see him.
A cool April.
His heart, Regulus.
His eyes, beautiful.
He twinkles, mocking me.

For he is too far away.

He eyes me.
But not a single word pushes past his lips.

I do not know why.

He looks with begging eyes.

I do not know why.

He roars.

I do not know why.

But he?
He is Leo.

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