Museum Date

I have kaleidoscope eyes, and under a honeyed gaze, everything is beautiful. 

Marina loved the burrows, the buns of the burrows, and as an extent of that, everything the buns of the burrows create. When she heard of an art exhibit being held downtown, she was more than thrilled to attend. 

She felt herself moved by the intricate and heartfelt art, the lingering passion. Marina could get lost looking at each painting or sculpture, and trying as she might to imagine the meaning behind each piece. That was the beauty of art, while a work may have one meaning to its creator, for those looking at it, the meaning is theirs to decide unless they are told otherwise. Therefore, it becomes a game of wonder. 

She moved from piece to piece, longingly wanting to know what the bun, who created them, felt in the midst of creating their art. 

Moving from one piece to the next, suddenly she heard a crack of glass and jumped, letting out a muffled shriek of worry. 

“Ah, that must have been them.” Said a soft voice from a darkened corner. 

Marina looked down and saw a pair of glasses, one lens now cracked in an intricate web of force, unusable for the most part. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked towards where the voice came from. 

There she saw a short doll kneeling in her direction. She picked up the glasses and hurried towards the poor bun.

“I am so sorry about this! I should have looked where I was going!” Marina panickedly explained, wanting the other bun to understand her reasons for not paying mind to her surroundings. But before she could continue, the other bun reached out, his soft hands brushing against Marina’s like a faint whisper, before he lightly grabbed the glasses. He then looked at them, smiled, and put them on. 

He still hadn’t said a word since hearing the crack of the right lens. Marina began sweating profusely, hoping the bun wasn’t too upset. Her tail tucked between her legs as she worked herself to tears trying to explain herself. Meanwhile, the mysterious bun looked at her with a gentle smile and let out a giggle. 

Marina stopped in her tracks, felt a tear trickle down her heated cheek, and lost her breath for a moment as the bun immediately reached out and caught it on his forefinger. That’s when she realized some time during her spiel, she had knelt down with him. For the second time in her life, she heard his voice, and it felt like a gust of cool wind in her chest. 

“You’re really cute.”

Marina’s face reddened further, her voice growing hoarse with excitement. “I’m.. I mean… I… huh?” She said, slurring her words amongst her shy breaths. 

The bun grabbed her hands and got close, enough for them to see her even with a broken lens. He repeated himself, “You’re really cute.” 

Marina lost her words, a lifetime of knowledge gone in a moment. Her mind was a jumble of life and love, and it felt pretty damned wonderful. 

“Breathe.” He said. 

Marina greedily sucked in a deep breath, letting it out just as fast. Once she regained herself, she spoke coherently for the first time since stepping on this poor bun's glasses. “My name is Marina.” 

“Marina… I like that. My name is Fauna.” The bun said, smiling softly. “With my lens broken like this, I can see multiples of you. And each one is more breathtaking than the last.”

Marina giggled softly, realizing something. “You smell like alcohol.” 

The bun cracked a smile, chuckling at her words. “Art is so much better to look at drunk, don’t you know?” 

Marina stood up, helping Fauna stand as well. The bun lost his footing, and leaned against Marina, his warm cheek resting on her shoulder. She could feel his breath move her hair ever so slightly. She meekly spoke again, feeling a little shy around him. “Do you need me to bring you somewhere?”

“To the next painting, love. That’s where I need to be.” 

She entertained this bun, if only so she could soak up his presence for just a tad longer. They looked at each piece one at a time, saying nothing until they were done observing, wondering, and agreeing to move to the next. Their thoughts on each artwork were kept as a quiet secret to themselves, with nothing being shared but the joy of each others’ company. By the time they found themselves at the last painting, Fauna had sobered up some, and was no longer leaning on Marina. 

“I’m sorry if I bothered you back there. I drank too much in preparation for this exhibit and lost myself a bit.”

Marina shook her head. “It was nothing!”

Fauna cleared his throat. “Well, then I guess I must be going… I need to get my glasses fixed. You should… have this.” He slipped something into her hand and promptly walked off. 

Marina didn’t take her eyes off the bun as he walked off, not looking at what he placed in her hand until his figure was a blur in the distance. When she finally lowered her gaze, she smiled. He had left a small scrap of paper, and on it, was a phone number. 

She was left to wonder who that mysterious doll was, her heart still faintly racing.