The man nodded and followed behind him like a way too tall shadow, smiling faintly. He rubbed his arms as he ducked into the tiny home, his head barely brushing the ceiling.
He hurried off and grabbed a blanket and a jumper, even though it wouldn't fit the man anyway, "Here. If you weren't so tall the jumper would fit better."
The man smiled faintly and took it, fitting it on. It squeezed his shoulders which made him hunch more than what he already did.
"Can you- Can you talk?" He asked, motioning to the small, two seated couch in the corner.
The other man scooted over to the couch and sat, sighing softly in relief. He glanced up past his dark, long hair and eyelashes. He took a moment before shaking his head. He’d lost the ability to talk years ago, just after he was moved out here.
"Can you write, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow with a tiny smile, ready to go off an get pen and paper if asked for.
The man nodded, sitting up a little. A small droplet of water dripped off of his curls and onto his long, skinny fingers. Writing was really all he did, nowadays.
He didn't respond before rushing off to get some paper. He couldn't help he was just a tad bit excited. He came back shortly after, pushing a small table towards him with his foot before he sat and placed the things in front of the man.
The other man sat up a little, accepting a pen and tapping it on the table. He wasn’t sure what to write. So he wrote, What is your name? How long have you been here? He pulled the paper into the other’s view. His handwriting was tall and the stroke was inky and dark.
"I'm Max and I honestly don't know anymore. I stopped keeping track of the days. What about you? Same two questions." Max looked from the paper to his eyes before quickly looking back to the paper.
The other man nodded a little before looking down at the paper. He thought for a moment before writing,
Hello, Max. You can just call me Met. I’ve been here for longer than I can remember. However, I’ve most recently started counting, and I’ve been here for at least… He thought some more. Twenty years?
"Hi, Met. it's nice to meet you," Max offered a smile, "Damn, over twenty? Wow. Why'd you want to live out here?"
Met smiled faintly and sighed through his teeth. I did not have the choice. I’m glad someone has somehow crossed my path out here. How did you come across to this area, anyway?
Max shrugged, "I came across it camping a long time ago with some friends. I thought it would be nice to come back."
That’s really nice. It’s beautiful out here. Met smiled a genuine smile.
"Yeah. Don't you ever get lonely, though?" Max frowned a little and looked down at the couch.
Not really, was Met’s brief response. He leaned back on the couch, fumbling with the pen he was holding.
"Oh. Lucky you," Max sighed a little, "Do you know why you lost your voice?"
Met shrugged and then nodded. I lost it in my job. I strained it so much it hurts to talk.
"Damn, I'm so sorry." Max rubbed at his neck.
Met smiled faintly. That’s okay. So… what do you do around here?
Max shrugged, "I draw, bird watch. Anything to keep me entertained, you?"
That’s nice. I love the birds. I like to watch the butterflies, draw and write. I cook a lot too. He smiled faintly.
"What do you write about?" He asked, bringing one knee to his chest.
Just stuff that comes to my head. I have a lot of notebooks I found off of people filled with my stories; and theirs, too.
"Oh. What's your favourite story you've written or read?"
Met thought for a few moments. I’m not sure.
"Aw, come on. Surely you have one."
I’ve read so many in my lifetime. It’s hard to choose.
"Okay… well just tell me one then. Doesn't have to be your favourite but one."
