mallow
When a long time passes without guests, a special visitor comes to keep me company.
A small, rabbit-looking little guy appears inside my room without me noticing. There are times when I purposely wait for him, facing the door as I wait, yet somehow, he always seems to beat me to it. It is as whimsical as it is mysterious. His cotton-like fur seems multicolored, although I couldn't say which colors, as it is hard to make them out in the dark. Still, I like to imagine him striped with light blue, pink, and white, as if he were garbed in a pair of colorful, soft-toned pajamas.
I call him "Him," but it could just as well be a "Her," but he doesn't complain, so I call him what feels most natural. He mainly floats around atop a little cotton cloud, moving slowly, and he is always sleeping. Never once have I seen him open his eyes, yet somehow, he seems aware of me and his surroundings. He never crashes or bumps into anything, only drifting quietly through the room and leaving a temporary trail of cloud in his path. He is also incredibly soft, like a plushie, but even softer than that. I feel like if I poked him too strongly, my hand might just go through, which is not a pleasant thought. He is like a miniature floating oasis of multi-flavored cotton candy, though I should not say that out loud because I'd be frightened to be referred to like that.
I feel like each time he appears, it takes longer for the next visit. Does that mean he will one day stop visiting? Or does that mean that no matter how long, he will always come back? It might be a matter of perspective. I eventually got tired of playing with him or poking him, and the latest visits are just silent company, but he works for a great listener. Sometimes I tell him stories and about other visitors that come here. It makes it worth writing everything down, even if it's a one-sided discourse. But sometimes, it takes only opening a single window to let some fresh air come in, don't you think? Other times, I pretend to sleep with him as he rests on my lap. I can't really sleep; I wonder if he is pretending too, but he moves around way too much for pretending. It made me wonder once if he IS really sleeping all the time, and it's actually the cloud that is conscious and just taking him along all the time.
One particular day, a long, looong time ago, something happened. He came around to visit as usual, but that day I was wallowing deep within a fathomless ocean of sorrow and sadness. I could neither hear nor feel his presence at all. Darkness seemed to swallow the room, as though someone had drawn a great black curtain over the whole world. Even the stars, which are usually so dependable, seemed to have forgotten that they were supposed to fall, as if in a crusade against me. Entranced in that pit, nothing could reach me, until a faint, small, and subtle sensation brought me back to my senses.
It was him, pressing against my side as I curled up before the window. He was expressionless as ever, and just as silent. Yet the tiny pressure against me felt incredibly warm. For a moment, impossible as it was, I felt that I almost could cry, but being unable to, I held him against my chest and knees, and his warmth seemed to envelop my whole body. I melted into the dreamlike fantasy of comfort. "I bet he doesn't even know what sadness is," I thought meanwhile.
From that day on, I called him Mallow.