Companion.

There was a hopelessness that permeated my world, emanating from my skin, soaking into all my organs.

My stomach no longer even bothered to curl at the sight of failure.

Instead, it swallowed its growls, seeking nourishment in it.

I decided to leave.

A foreigner stopped me on my rise toward the stars.

He had kaleidoscope eye's, he could see almost anything from any angle, he only had one true love that he kept close to him in a case.

Laid before him was a notebook and a pen.

"Stay for a game," he said to me.

"After you win your game with me I'll let you go on your way."

Without hesitance I dismissed legs, planted myself in front of him and began to play. He spoke of a story he once heard about the stars, and with my left hand coiled around the pen I breezed across the paper, cutting the intoxicated mist around him with rhythmic motions, leaving a map of blue lines and an invitation.

He declined.

I lost.

So we played again.

This time I drew a picture of the sky.

We traveled for two year's and played many similar games, then one day the ground swallowed him whole.

There was nothing I could do, but I hope he makes it to the stars one day.

I still have his favorite sweater.

This is the first thing I have written in at least 5 years.