So fragile, I think.

It's been years since I sailed across the seas looking for value, it took a toll on me now of course, leaving scars and what else have you but I bask in the glory of my past and look forward to the future. There was a man I once met sailing the seas, we first passed each other but took a moment to reel-in and barter. As our ship connected first by hands, and then by ropes which themselves got tied, we shook our hands. He spoke a language that I, first, did not know of. Though with his caricature and way of speech, yes, it already dawned upon me that he was of the 'Los descent. A 'Laes in my lifetime to meet, united by the waves we ended the bartering with a hug and wisdom that I could not for the life of me understand. Though he wrote it on a piece of torn wet falling-apart paper he wrote in Massun letters,

"Estás perdonado camarada, cuando llegue el momento nos volveremos a encontrar y, esta vez, seremos más mayores. Miremos hacia el futuro" with an 'Percy A. Miguel' signed at the end, yes, I believe I spoke with sir Miguel that day... And he went waving off back to a little quadrant-island united to 'Los. I clutched the paper, and I took in my last view of that man with a hint of bitterness and sweetness, who was he really? What was his history? When did he rent that boat or, perhaps, maybe he even owned it? There were incredulous amounts of questions invading my engine of fury and conquest for knowledge, that I instantly sailed back to my homecity of Cur' Le Cur, making sure to waft away the tasty lobsters being sold on the docks which could eat a pretty penny out of my wallet. 

He looks at me as I end off the story, and there's silence. 
That's it?
That it is.
The story you wanted to tell me of, whole life I asked for, was just a story about your love for a man? He snickers out of disappointment, pinching his eyes.
I casually pick up the bottle of Leviafansk Viski by my thumb, middle and ring finger and take it to my mouth to have a last swig.
All this time, years now. And this? He gestures with his hands as to extrapolate the point. Is what I wanted to know about? A marica trying to oogle with you in the sea?
I wipe my mouth with my forearm holding the viski.
Is this a joke? Faex. He lowers his head into his palms, letting his young blonde hair sweep and comfort him in a disappointing time.

He stands up, gets ready to leave and does so and I still sit there with a bottle of Leviafansk Viski in my hand. I raise my left hand and open to look at it, and I see that it is still in rapid declining health. I lean back, quietly hitting my head on the wall behind me as to get more comfier. I found it endearing, that meeting. It was almost fairy tail-ish for the circumstances. Meeting someone so unknown yet known was a strange feeling that made my stomach churn. Not out of traditional love no, but rather intrigue. I was merely an... Extra to him, a puppet. For the first time, I understood how much of an ant I was in the scale of things. In my life I was the main attraction, the hero, the protagonist. But meeting one other fellow simian on the dangerous waves with no control seen anywhere... It made me feel like nothing. A speck over the horizon in a literal sea of blue. And for the first time, and only that time, I felt peace and affection towards humanity that I had never felt. I was ready to die for people who I never knew; For everyone. For Miguel.

I have no knowledge of my intrigue, if it ever did veer into the territory of eternal love. Hell, it could all be a romanticization. I do wish to see more of Miguel, that much is for certain but I have no idea where to even begin searching for him. I wonder if my spark will just fade away in an anticlimactic sense once I do find him, but for now that is out of my control. I clench my infected fist and try to keep remembering him and lower it. I close my eyes that are secreting something again, something that I am all too familiar of.

Oh, it's that time again. The yearning.