Too Much, Gently - Mari 404

You said, “Too much?” I said, “Not yet.” Then the ceiling changed color. You smiled like that was an answer. Condensation beads along the glass, one green drop outruns the rest. You keep watching it like it matters. It does now. Okay. Fair. The speakers blink in sugar colors, your reflection doubles in the chrome. You miss the straw, laugh into the cup, then blame the room. The room started it. Pink on the left side— Gold in your eyes— That little synth keeps climbing— Don’t stop it this time. Let it get ridiculous. Too much, gently, turn the sweetness all the way up. Keep your voice right here beside me while the whole room overfills. Honeyflash behind our eyelids, tiny galaxies in the cup. Too much, gently— if it blooms, let it bloom. Don’t make it smaller. Come closer instead. Too much, gently, we can hold the quiet in the middle while everything else goes bright. You choose the candy by the wrapper, not the flavor. Correct. That is objectively incorrect. Then why’d you steal the blue one? Research. Mm-hm. Outside, the signs keep changing color. Inside, your hair catches every one. You tilt your head when the chord turns strange like you can hear where it wants to go. You tap twice when you like a sound. You noticed that? Twice. Melonlight on the tabletop— Static glitter in the glass— Something sweet behind the harmony— Something warmer underneath— Again. Again. Again— Too much, gently, let the color multiply. Nectar-pulse under the floorboards, soft enough to stay inside. Every shimmer grows another, every note leaves sugar-light. Too much, gently— we don’t have to turn it down. Your hand is warm. So is yours. That’s the whole lyric for one second. Keep one quiet thing. Which one? This. Your thumb against my knuckle. My breath beside your ear. One laugh we don’t explain. One little point of contact under all that color. Now bring it back. All of it? Obviously. Dew-lumen— Candy static— Choir through the circuitry— Pearl-white pulse— More. More. More— but stay right here. Too much, gently, turn the sweetness past the edge. Let the synths bloom through the ceiling, let the room forget its shape. Honeyflash and melon halos, little lights beneath the skin. Too much, gently— I can still hear you in it. Your laugh when the high note bends— Your eyes when the bass comes back— That ridiculous blue wrapper— The green drop on the glass— Keep those. Keep those. Let everything else explode in flowers. Too much, gently, nothing here has to be small. Soft is not the opposite of vivid. Close is not the opposite of all. Too much? Not yet. Good. Again.