She sat in shadows.
The cool air from the river sent a small breeze swirling through the tall grasses as if leading to where she sat. A small figure, head bent seeming as if the world has forgotten her completely. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, concealed her face and danced above the ground. She seemed sad, though there was no indication of why.
Marcia reached out for her, to hug her, to hold her, comfort her. But it was the same as always, just as her fingers brushed the back of the girl's hand, the whole scene slide away. As if some invisible cord pulled Marcia backwards, across the river and into the woods.
"Marcia…"
And she was gone from sight once again.
Marcia blinked, clearing her eyes to realize she was staring out of the large open window to the school grounds. Her shoulders dropped slightly as she realized her name was being called.
"Miss Montale?" A high pitched, nasally voice repeated. "Would you care to share what is so important you must ignore Shakespeare?"
Marcia started and turned around properly in her seat, folding her hands on top of her desk. "I'm sorry Ma'am, won't happen again."
"That was what you said the last three times." The teacher's eyes narrowed at Marcia before he turned back to his lecture.
Marcia sank down in the seat, annoyed she'd gotten caught off in her own little world again. Cursing her luck, she tried to feign interest in what her English teacher was saying. Instead 10 minutes after becoming completely bored, she began working on another sketch of the girl who seemed to haunt her.
Once classes were over it become exactly like any other day. Which included and was utterly limited to, homework at her brother's café and then to becoming a waitress. Marcia settled down at one of the sidewalk tables, dumping her books out onto the metal surface. A worn copy of A Mid Summer Nights Dream was pushed off to the side as she tried to concentrate on the Philosophy of Primordial Wisdoms.
It amazed her how Mr. Narsems could make even Shakespeare sound dry and worthless. Marcia settled into a book that was truly boring and watched the evening slip quietly away. Twilight crept over the streets slowly by the time she started into reading the gold spun tale of Hermia and Lysander for the 17th time.
However, only half way through the first scene, a loud shrieking scream informed her it was time for her to help with the night crowd.
Needless to say, after dealing with a rather persistent Mrs. Thatcher who insisted Marcia had given her a Danish rather than a French Roll for the last two hours, (Even after it had been replaced 4 times, there was still something wrong with it. Raspberry not Cream, Cream not Raspberry and then somehow it all went weird and she demanded it be Blueberry.) Marcia was dead on her feet. At least the tips were good. Luckily, they lived above the café also. So it was only a trudge outside to the side of the building and up a flight of stairs to collapse gratefully on the sofa. Where she remained for the next 4 hours, staring blankly at the T.V. in a way that only a Hollywood zombie could do better.
Her bed didn't offer much comfort either.
2am and Marcia was wide awake watching shadows dance across her ceiling from the passing headlights. The river…cool and pale…like her skin. Th preverbal Ice Queen, never to have the warm touch of human kind.
Who was she? Marcia moved forward to that familiar scene. The girl with her head bent low, knees folded to her chest, silk hair obscuring her face.
She needed to know. To find out who she was, to comfort her…melt the ice…
A loud screech of a car horn brought her back to reality.
Marcia squeezed her eyes shut, throwing a pillow over her head. Just once she'd like to have some warning her imagination was about to take over. Just enough time before hand that she could give herself instructions to shake the girl's hair out of her ruddy face. There she was again…the girl in white. The angel with hair the colour of fire…
It was going to drive her insane if she didn't see soon. The curiosity was killing her.
Akiko looked up through strands of black hair at her narrow face, the high cheekbones, her startlingly green eyes. She walked on the calm waters towards her, a hand held out as if asking for Akiko to take it and return with her.
It was as if she could not move, she clutched her knees more tightly to her, folding herself in half.
As always, the angel sped backwards into the darkness of the forest as quickly as she'd arrived. Akiko jumped, realizing she'd over filled the coffee cup and earned a rather nasty look from the customer in front of her. She pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, mumbling a hasty 'sorry' and began mopping up the coffer with the edge of her apron.
Would this cursed daydream ever leave her in peace for a while?
She sighed and returned to the kitchen, flopping down into the nearest chair. What exactly was going on in her head? If Akiko knew that halfway around the world, there was a red headed girl with a pillow over her head wondering the exact same things…she would be even more confused.