“No, you don’t understand.” She sighed and quickly flipped herself onto all fours, crawling over to him. Their knees were touching when she finally sat down on her legs. “The first time I saw you, my soul said to me ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.’ Atticus’ heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing as he did. “Elliot,” he smiled softly and gently shook his head, “your soul can’t talk to you.” Elliot tilted her head and smiled back at him. It was a smile that seemed to be laughing at him, as if he was the one talking nonsense. “Everything talks Atti, you just have to listen.”

She looked over his shoulder and pointed into the sky. Atticus turned to see where she was pointing. “Those stars, they’re telling me how they can see the whole entire world, yet all that matters right now is us.” Another skip. She quickly turned her head, shifting her attention, and pointed to a tree that was not far from them. “And her, she’s saying that if another preteen attempts to climb her again and breaks another one of her branches she is going to lose it.” Atticus let out a low laugh at that one.

Suddenly, he felt a finger poking him on the chest. He turned around and looked down at the chipped green nail polish covered finger and then up at it's owner. Her eyes were so bright, yet so soft; velvety almost. Atticus found himself scanning her face quickly. He didn’t know why he was doing it, he just was. Everything about it was the same as it had always been; a mole near the right side of her upper lip, freckles dancing across her cheeks and nose, the small scar on the bottom on her left eyebrow. Yet how can she look so completely and utterly different to him in this moment, he wondered to himself. Slowly, she brought her free hand up to his face, cradling it. Her fingers gently grazed his cheeks as her palms settled on the sides of his face. “Open your heart Atticus,” she whispered, “and then you’ll finally be able to hear them”