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“I can well say that I am proud to have you as my friend. But I won’t say that. This may sound …ok … let it sound whatever these innocents want it to … I say ‘I am proud of myself for being your friend’.”

He kept himself as if he had heard nothing. He didn’t even seem to be thinking of the words that have just flown by. He was writing and he continued doing it. She stood there glancing at her hand that was trying to feel something in the air. She knew she would feel nothing but she continued doing it.

Then she raised her other hand and clapped onto the fingers that were still in the air. She felt an un-hurting pain and she was pleased with what she had done - probably unintentionally. But she was happy with it. She smiled at herself imitating his style. She knew his style and she knew he was fully aware of her every word and her every action. She knew that he was aware of the little pain she had just felt. She had, with her clap, broken her glass finger-ring.

“Yes”, he said.

Then he smiled and allowed her to see it and let her know that he wanted her to see it. He had his head half-raised, and was still not looking toward her.

He gently laid the pen on the table above the book and saw to it that the book would help it stay there. He raised his head and continued “There is no point in having your cake and not being able to eat it. You take my advice; forget about the cake and the people looking at the cake. Think about your hunger.”

She stood there all attentive staring at his eye lids. She had that unusual smile on her face. But she had used this smile before while listening to him. She did understand nothing but she knew she would understand more than what others around will till the time he is finished with what he was saying.

He stood up and looked directly into her eyes. She felt he was not looking into her eyes but into her heart. He was reading a book written in her eyes.

“For this world you are not your perception but the perception of those who think about you as special. But other’s insight of your reality should not take you for a ride. Stand by the side of your perception as if it were to be your best friend. Your friend shall tell you what you are and what you must not be. Anybody need not make you feel yourself as a special person with his perception. You are special by yourself and your perception will let you know that. You friend knows a lot about you and will be there with you even when the world stops being with you. Your friend, the perception, loves you.”

He turned to her other friends who didn’t seem to be much interested in their conversation. Then he picked up the book allowing the pen to roll down in his other hand, read something from the book quietly, and sat down and went back to writing.

She still knew about his awareness of her sharp presence there. She knew he was still thinking about her. She went back to stare at her hand and the broken blue glass. By then the sunlight had reached the floor through the stripped windows and was feeling for the soothing blue color in the glass. The largest piece looked like the moon on its third day, and the other pieces like stars scattered around that moon. She was wondering if there was any relation between her two friends – her perception who will stand with her always, and him.