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Love Across Partitions

The skyscraper place of business shined in the afternoon daylight, the glass mirroring the shades of the sunset. Inside, Mia Anderson sat at her smooth, glass work area, examining the most recent quarterly reports. The delicate murmur of her office, the tranquil buzz of telephones, and the clatter of high heels were recognizable hints of her reality — a world that was essentially as cleaned and exact as her customized suit.

Mia had worked as long as she can remember to arrive. From a humble childhood, she’d ascended the professional bureaucracy, each rung setting her place among the first class. She was a lady who blossomed with control, system, and achievement. Also, presently, at 34, she was nearly making accomplice at quite possibly of the most renowned firm in the city.

Across town, in a little studio loft tucked between two old block structures, Leo Carter was pressing his paintbrushes into an old cowhide handbag. His fingers were stained with a rainbow of varieties, remainders of the theoretical magnum opus he’d been chipping away at for as far back as week. The walls around him were decorated with his works of art — clear, crude, and loaded with life. He was a craftsman, living check to check, with no reasonable bearing, yet an irrefutable enthusiasm that consumed him.

He had met Mia a couple of months prior at a cause occasion. She had gone to as a visitor, an expected financial backer in human expression, while Leo had been approached to show his work. Their most memorable discussion had been brief, yet there had been an attractive thing about her — something that pulled him in, in spite of their various universes. Her eyes had held a flash of interest, despite the fact that she appeared to be awkward in the diletantish swarm.

“Your work is… extraordinary,” she had expressed, looking at one of his compositions — an intense, tumultuous blend of varieties and shapes. “I don’t know I grasp it, yet I can see it implies something to you.”

Leo had grinned, the glow in her voice causing him to feel grasped, regardless of whether just briefly.

From that point forward, they’d shared suppers in faintly lit cafés, strolls through parks, and significant conversations about existence. In any case, each time their universes impacted, the distinctions appeared to be seriously glaring. Mia’s reality was one of cutoff times, benefits, and extravagance. Leo’s was one of suddenness, energy, and effortlessness.

This evening, they sat at a little bistro, a spot Leo regularly visited. It was comfortable, close — a long ways from the high end foundations Mia was familiar with.

“You’re not kidding,” Leo commented, watching her mix her wine absentmindedly.

“I’m simply… thinking,” Mia answered, her voice deceiving her anxiety. “I couldn’t say whether this is working. Us, I mean.”

Leo glared, his temple wrinkling. “Your meaning could be a little more obvious. We’re fine.”

“It’s simply… our lives are so unique, Leo. Your studio is so… turbulent. Your reality is so unique in relation to mine.” Mia delayed, attempting to track down the words. “I don’t have the foggiest idea how to make it work. I’ve fabricated a life that is organized, arranged. Furthermore, you… you don’t have any of that. You don’t require it.”

Leo inclined forward, his eyes mellowing. “The issue lies with perhaps that. You’ve assembled your life around control. I’ve assembled mine around opportunity. Yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t track down a center ground.”

Mia peered down at her hands, the heaviness of his words soaking in. He was correct — she had gone through years controlling each part of her reality, from her vocation to her own life. She was worried about the possibility that that her cautiously organized world would unwind assuming she let go, assuming she permitted herself to be weak seeing someone didn’t fit the form.

“At any point do you feel like you’re stuck?” she asked delicately. “Like you’re simply having an impact in another person’s content?”

Leo’s appearance mellowed. “Consistently. However at that point I paint. Also, it’s like I’m making my own story. My own principles. Its excellence is, there’s nobody letting me know what it ought to be.”

Mia took a full breath, her psyche dashing. Interestingly, she permitted herself to envision an alternate life — an existence without steady tension, without the heaviness of assumptions, both her own and others’. It was unnerving. Furthermore, exciting.

“We’ll need to think twice about,” said unobtrusively, meeting his look. “I can’t live in that frame of mind without structure. In any case, perhaps… perhaps I can figure out how to live in one that is somewhat less unbending.”

Leo grinned, a sluggish, grasping smile. “I can train you to embrace a little mayhem.”

“What’s more, I can show you how to make arrangements for the future,” Mia answered, her lips bending into a conditional grin.

They sat peacefully briefly, the air between them accused of another comprehension. They were two individuals from various universes, however at that time, they understood that affection wasn’t tied in with finding somebody who fit flawlessly into their life. It was tied in with figuring out how to adjust, to develop, and to connect the splits between them.

“I figure we can make this work,” Mia said, her voice firm with recently discovered assurance.

Leo arrived at across the table, grasping her hand. “Better believe it, I figure we can.”

Also, as they left the bistro, the night air cool against their skin, they strolled one next to the other — not as two individuals attempting to fit together, but rather as two spirits prepared to fabricate a new thing, something exceptionally theirs.