A girl sits at a table in front of a coffee shop, eyeing the charming boy lounging next to her. They observe one another as if their friends don’t exist, his eyes catching hers like a blue wave crashing on the beach. “Well, I’m not ordinary.”

Allez means go, and I go. Allez is his title but he has no name. We work well together, he and I. Born of trying times, our relationship is as strong as the aluminum forged in it. Flying across stretches of hard-packed cement is what we do.

The girl with the sunset eyes and the boy with hands like glass.

He fell in love with her because she was so beautiful when she cried.

He hated to see her in tears, but when she cried, streaks of blue and orange and yellow and pink fell down her cheeks.

On sad days,

his eyes tell me stories –

stories of pain,

of struggle,

of truth.

They hold within them soft, grey clouds after April afternoon storms.

But the sky is bright without the sun,

because it is never truly gone.