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“…Okay.”

I stay near the wall, repeating numbers in order. I don’t like when people come close to me, it feels weird. So I repeat them again and again in my head while she keeps looking at me. 19 1 6 5 - 19 1 6 5

Safe. Safe. Safe.

“Six… five…” I don’t realize I’m whispering them until she talks again, sitting next to me.

“What are you saying?”

I stop and look up. “…Nothing,” I replied quickly. My mouth closes like it got caught doing something wrong.

You can’t have friends, Reya. You’re sick in the head.

She tilts her head. “You were saying random numbers.”

I shrug. “It’s a secret.” It sounds stupid when I say it out loud. I already know that, but she doesn’t laugh.

She just nods like that makes sense somehow. “Okay,” she whispers. “I do that too. Counting I mean, it’s really fun. Don’t you think? Also what’s your name?”

I look at her again, properly this time. She’s still smiling when our eyes meet. “You talk a lot,” I say, softer now.

She blinks, then smiles wider like I gave her something back. “You listen a lot too,” she says. “So we balance.”

I don’t answer. The numbers come back again anyway.

19 1 6 5. 19 1 6 5.

“I like your eyes,” she adds suddenly. “They’re blue. That’s my favorite color.”

I pause. “…It’s my favorite too.”

That feels easier than I thought. Talking to someone my age. It’s not that bad… Maybe if I hide the voices she’ll stay.

“Then we’re friends,” she says.

I should say no. I usually do. But she’s still there, still not moving away, still acting like nothing about me is strange or wrong. “…Okay,” I accept.

And she looks like that was the only correct answer. “I don’t know how this works,” she mumbles.

“Me neither.”

“We’ll learn together, okay?”

I keep repeating the numbers in my head while she sits next to me with a box of cut carrots and offers me some.

“My name is Mireya,” I finally say and she replies with a big smile, "nice to meet you Mireya. We're going to be the best of friends"

6 18 9 5 14

Friend…

110

Mireya

Play - Church Bells by Henry Morris

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