He found me.
He found me.
The words played over and over in her head.
Yes, it summed it up perfectly.
She had been lost; caught up in science; trapped in her superior mindset.
Then, he came.
He began looking, searching within her soul for that small part of her that still believed.
The part that believed in anything other than rationality and fact.
That part began to speak – quietly at first, not even a whisper.
That part told her that sometimes, just sometimes, the world is unpredictable. Sometimes, it throws a curve ball; sometimes, it misses the target. But, sometimes – most of the time, the voice urged – it hits the bullseye; sometimes, life throws you exactly what you need most to survive. Sometimes, it sends a hero.
Over the course of a few years, the voice grew louder; its call stronger.
Eventually, though, the voice began to say something else. It no longer urged; it called; it beckoned.
It called out for him.
The one who had taught her to listen; to take time, to live life and to trust her gut.
And when the voice began to call, he was ready to answer.
And when the voice began to call, she was ready for him to answer.
She let go.
She disarmed her barriers, let down her walls and opened herself up.
Out of her mouth came that voice.
The words spilled out.
She called; he answered.
He responded to the voice she hadn't known existed.
He responded to the voice he'd taught her to hear.
She called, and he dropped everything, just to look for her.
He was her guardian; her angel.
The pain, hidden behind a distant expression...
The voice, muted from years of disuse…
The love, buried deep within by the conviction that it didn't exist…
It was all laid bare.
The one who searched for it.
The one who believed it was still there.
The one who found it.