SWEETIE

The small girl sat in the dreary light, counting raindrops on the window. On the other side of the window was freedom, the freedom that she didn’t deserve, or so she was told. She believed that, as young children are inclined to do so when an adult speaks. Rolling thunder boomed and shook something deep inside the little girl. “Hello,” a sad voice came from seemingly out of nowhere The little girl pressed her bony figure painfully hard into the cold stone chair. “There is no need to fear me,” came the voice again. The girl’s body was now pushed so hard into her chair, it was a wonder that she didn't break. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she froze in shock. The pale figure in front of her dropped in disappointment. “I said you don’t have to fear me,” she muttered, seemingly to the gray rags that billowed around her. Without intending to, the small girl relaxed, and found herself strangely comfortable with this person who didn’t mean any harm. Someone like this was very rare. “Hello,” came a shy whispering response. This new, kind person straightened up and smiled. “Hello to you too. My name is, well, was, Maya. What’s yours?” “Name?” asked the girl. “Well yes, you do have a name. Don’t you?” “Well, my mother used to call me Sweetie,” “Well then your name is Sweetie. Pleasure to meet you, Sweetie,” “Pleasure to meet you too,” said Sweetie, with a little more dignity. “Do you want to be friends?’ Maya asked “What's a friend?” Sweetie asked in response. “Someone who you have fun with.” “I guess.” And Sweetie and Maya did have fun. They had conversions and played a game despite the fact that their surroundings were bare except for a stone chair. This game was them trying to cross the room without touching the floor. It was impossible, yet fun.

The next morning, Maya was gone. Sweetie curled up into a tight ball on her cold stone chair, her mind numb. Flashes of Maya’s face and snippets of conversations swam and contorted in her mind. Now, she was no longer counting raindrops, but her tears.

Rachael Lippe