you're cold and I burn (on hold)

ought up. It could live on in the words someone used to explain it, the words they used to tell
people about it. It could live on in the way someone’s heart swells when they think, “My mother
always loved petunias..”
Louis could crawl into a ball <strong>and</strong> sleep right here on the floor <strong>and</strong> never leave for a second. He
feels whole here, in this museum, filled with the pieces he probably knows by heart. This is his
home <strong>and</strong> his inspiration, what pushed him through when he felt like he was on the wrong side of
the fence, prevented him from hopping it <strong>and</strong> becoming someone that wasn’t himself. And he’s so
appreciative of everything this has taught him; these four walls, he owes his life to.
“Louis, y’okay man?”
Louis’ eyes jump of the image he was staring at, the friendly worker next to him with a very
confused <strong>and</strong> worried expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m good, why?”
“It looked like you were crying.” He answers, his face smoothing out, “I see you here all the time,
sometimes I wonder if you forget where you are, the way you stare at some of these paintings.”
“I probably do,” Louis laughs, “<strong>and</strong> I’m not crying, my eyes water from not blinking.”
“Why? Why’re you so into these? I mean, it’s fine that you are, <strong>and</strong> all.” The worker looks like
he’s in his mid-twenties, stark red hair <strong>and</strong> a welcoming smile.
“I paint, <strong>and</strong> these pieces are what inspired me to start, so I like to come by <strong>and</strong> revel in the
memory.”
“You know a lot about these paintings?” He asks, <strong>and</strong> Louis glances at his name tag, reading
’Trevor.’
“I do.”
“Well, my dad works here, I know he’s seen you around a lot. If you want, I can give him your
name, see if maybe we need some help with the museum tours <strong>and</strong> all that?”
“Are you kidding me?” Louis shouts, unaware of his projecting volume until it’s echoing from the
walls. He clears his throat, recomposing, “I’d love that, wow, you have no idea how amazing that
would be, thank you so much.” Louis glances down at his own attire, only wishing he’d been
dressed more professionally, more formal. Instead, clad in a pair of dark jeans <strong>and</strong> his favorite toolarge-for-his-frame
lavender sweater. Though, this morning when he had pulled it on, it smelled
faintly of Harry, <strong>and</strong> Louis is surely going crazy.
“Mate, it’s all good, we need some knowledgeable people around here, I’m sure he’ll appreciate
you.”
“You’re my saviour, pal.” Louis grabs Trevor’s h<strong>and</strong> in his own for a firm h<strong>and</strong>shake, “I hope it
works out.”
“He’ll hopefully be giving you a call to set up for a formal interview, so if you want to write down
your name <strong>and</strong> some contact info I’ll gladly slip it to him.” He says, <strong>and</strong> Louis immediately pulls
out his wallet, grabbing a pen from the nearby desk to write his information on the back of his last
doctors appointment reminder card.
“It’s all there.”
“Great, look forward to working with you, maybe now I can split some hours, I’m tired of forty
plus a week.”