Sweet as Candy

   Sun was bright amidst the sky when Abble met Martina.

     It had happened during his midday stroll, a sort of ritual of his to say good morning to his day. Saturday in July, and the weather was perfect to be outside: cool enough that heat wasn’t an issue, but warm enough that it felt comfortable to stroll around. Abble, one whose mind would drift easily, was a particular fan of the feeling of that cozy feeling, sunrays gently on his skin. He would occasionally compare it to a kiss from a pretty lady, which would have the little guy’s chest puff up with pride. On this particular day, he had been busy with this feeling, when he bumped into another caterpillar.

     At least, that’s what he thought, though, in fact, he was staring at a jelly bean, silently nesting on the grass. Abble had huffed for a second when he had just impacted against it, but his whole attitude turned around when his gaze met the piece of candy: symmetrically round, slightly translucent, and the color of a fresh green apple. It smelled sweet, in a way that Abble could only infer was the perfume of a lady. The prettiest one he had ever seen.

     He was quick to apologize, searching for her gaze in the hopes she would forgive him, but he was unsuccessful: Despite Abbles’s search, he could not find her eyes. Still, after some thought, he came to the conclusion that it did not matter to him. In the end, there was no need for eyes when he felt like she was glancing at his heart. And with that, he could see her as she truly was: beautiful.

     Abble mumbled a hello instead and got no answer. He tried again, sheepish in the face of such beauty, and still nothing. Maybe, he thought, she didn’t want him to speak, but to listen. And listen he did, to the sounds of the garden witnessing their love:

     On the heights of a tree, there was a pheasant chirping away through the morning. A bit closer to the ground was a stream, small enough not to pose a threat to him or his lover, but with enough inertia that it was running a course, a crisp sound of water. Farther away but not hidden from view was a playground, where the sounds of children laughing and playing told the world that today was a good day, and Able was happy to be living it.

     After a good long while of breathing in the moment, he approached the other caterpillar and told her his name: Abble– like an apple, but with Bs to stand out. He awaited her response again, and after there was silence, he focused on the sound of his beating heart instead. Maybe love would give him an answer.

     And it did, the word coming into his mind: Martina, it whispered. He whispered it back to himself. It tasted like honey when spoken out loud, sweet as could be. Martina was a fitting word, he thought for a moment. Its meaning went something along the lines of “from Mars,” and that was such a perfect way to refer to a beauty out of this world: so delicate and elegant, and so perfectly unique.

     Abbe, ever the player, was experienced in courting the ladies he would deem pretty enough to accompany on the many adventures he had across the grass, but faced with Martina, he suddenly felt shy and inexperienced. Like the first petal a rose had sprung– the feeling of a first love he had forgotten through the years. It was hard as if all his pick-up lines and smooth talking words had gotten out the window, but he was so smitten by Martina that he declared something without thinking twice: in a day as bright as this one, maybe they could both bask under the sun together?

     As the wind, a tender summer breeze, swung her back and forth, Abble saw it as her making space in the grass to lay with her. He quickly did, letting their bodies cuddle up against each other, and he swore to keep her company through the day. Midday stroll be damned, Abble spent the rest of the day curled up next to her, telling her stories of his life in hopes of making her laugh. They watched the Summer sun disappears under the horizon in a gorgeous golden hour, and before going home, Abble placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead.

     “Thank you, gorgeous,” there was nothing short of adoration in his tone. “I will return to see you tomorrow.”