Young Writers Society

Orange and black with the most perfect patterns. I had seen my fair share of butterflies in my life, and enough in the past few days that they should have become annoying. Yet, as this one sat on my fingertips I couldn’t help but let myself finally escape the world and smile.

It’s wings’ small movements entranced me and although I was imagining it I felt as if they pushed away the heat and noise from the summer day.

When it had flown down it was hazardous, lacking any grace, but the longer it rested the calmer it became. I had escaped to this park for the same reason.

Carefully I moved my other hand to the side of the bench and picked one of the flowers from its place in the grass. The butterfly moved from my finger onto the flower while I held the stem steady, watching it as I finished the last of my own lunch.

When I was done and stood up it turned toward me as if in thanks before floating away, its wings seemingly blowing the last bit of cool air around toward me so I could remain cool just a minute longer.

Turning away, I stepped toward the trash can. Instead, I found myself face first in the dirt. It wasn’t an uncommon situation when I seemingly tripped on anything possible, but it did sober my mood slightly as I pulled myself up.

Once on my knees, I found my new shirt showing a surprising amount of dirt for its black colour and I could feel scratches on my knees as I added pressure to them. My sister would reprimand and remind me that heels weren’t essential for everyday life even though she knew sneakers were as much of a hazard to my health.

Once finished dusting as much as I could off I tried to stand, only to find myself trapped up against a fairly expensive looking, suit-clad gentlemen.

Stepping back, I still found myself having to look up to see his face. My heels hardly made me average height and this man was definitely over six feet tall.

“Hi?” I muttered when instead of saying anything he just watched me. I understand not everyone was kind enough to help another when they fell, but I’d never gotten this response. At least not this close up; many a soul had stared and judged my aversion to gravity from farther away.

To put it in simpler terms, my earlier statement about finding a gentleman in front of me was officially being rescinded.

“Excuse me?” I asked politely, although the last traces of my smile were definitely gone.

He finally stopped staring at me and instead moved his judging gaze to the ground as if searching for something. My eyes followed him as I worried I had bumped into him and knocked something from his grip. Although, I distinctly did not remember anything slowing my trek toward the painful earth.

“Drop something?” I asked anyway.

He searched the ground for another second before returning his eyes to me. Somehow they seemed to have increased in their level of judgement.

“There isn’t anything to trip on,” He stated as if it were a personal insult.

“I’m sorry?” I tried to stop my own face from falling into judgement. I failed.

“How?” he asked, his gentleman score dropping ever lower.

“Gravity,” I stood straighter, although a conversational joy, I needed to get moving or I would be late back to work. Something I normally dreaded, but today it would be a happy escape. “I do believe it applies to everyone on Earth, and most other large astral bodies. If I remember correctly it is something like 10 metres per second squared here.”

“Nine point eight,” he corrected me.

“I rounded.”

“Right.”

Taking a deep calming breath I tried to ignore everything about his bothersome attitude. “Listen, turns out physics was not my calling-” I began.

“Obviously.”

Another deep breath and I continued “But I do have a job that I’m now late for thanks to this educational chat, so good day.” I rushed away, and with a little magic, I didn’t trip. At least I didn’t fall down again, and when I tripped I doubted the man was still watching. I hoped.