Relics from my past,
Links to a memory of a holiday with a friend,
A lasting reminder of the thrill of non-lethal combat,
Siblings of those that bruised my flesh,
Symbols of my friendship...

Two balls of paint that I brought back from England.
Two unused shots during my day of skirmish with my best friend.
Two perfect spheres, twin in all aspects.

They are gone from my chest of drawers, fallen, forgotten, moved and left to gather dust.

They have undergone many changes since I brought them home, changes that are reflections of the changes my friendship has undergone in that time.

When first I brought them home they were sharp and well defined, they were perfectly spherical, the blue a bright and noble color, the yellow its perfect contrast, both stayed within their respective halves of the ball, the line clean and unmistakable.

The coloring on the outside began to fade, the sharp line between the two sides faded slightly as the yellow became greener, and the noble blue lost some of its shine, become a murky shadow of its former self.

The paint inside must be undergoing some bizzare reactions..

For a while they start to shrink, not the outside, but the inside, like a vacuum forming, one that distorts their shape, changing the sphere into something less than its past self. Changing the once proud sphere into something that would not roll, but would always stop, one side facing the ground, the other perched upon the back of its fallen comrade, dominating the view the world had of it, the view of the lower side restricted to sullen gaze of the black chest of drawers that it perches upon.

The Vacuum cannot be filled, but it can be shifted.

So idle hands shift the emptiness around to the other color, this color now faces only the chest of drawers, while its partner can now show itself off to the world, and thus it stays for many months.

Then, out of nowhere.. the paint inside expands. The vacuum is filled with the warm goodness that first established the shape and definition of the ball. Both sides can now see the sky, and the partnership is renewed. Life and the universe go on.

Caused in part by this newfound wholeness, the balls roll off of the chest of drawers and onto the floor.

The two balls become separated.

One rolls behind the chest of drawers, to sit with the dustcover of a book, to sit amongst the dust and contemplate life.

The other rolls the other way, to fall down in front of the chest, to land in the sight of the denizens of the larger world, and thus it becomes noticed and moved. It spends a few days upon the bed head before it slips away into the shadows.

In time they will both resurface, perhaps the vacuum will have reformed, or perhaps they will return the spheres they are when the parted ways, but either way they will return, sitting idle for months contemplating and discussing the changes in their forms and place in the oh-so-large world.

Thus changes the paintballs, thus changes my friendship.

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