• She stands there chewing on her lip, worrying the hem of her black shirt. Her brown and blue hair covers half her face, and she looks around the room through her thick, dark lashes. Not a spot of makeup on this girl, and thus what catches his eye. He watches her, how awkwardly she stands while her mother and friend are texting on cell phones like teens, how she glances around while friends chatter, and half familiar faces swirl around. Her stance is graceful, and she looks about thirteen.

    He comes over and introduces himself, and she takes up conversation willingly enough, though he can sense that though she hides it well, she is slightly uncomfortable. He wonders with harsh curiosity why. They stand and talk, and when her mother and friend move on, she smiles so beautifully, and walks away, her movement as graceful as her stillness.

    He never saw that girl again, and never caught her name. Though sometimes in his dreams, he sees that brown and blue haired figure, cloaked in black and sheathed in blue, retreating ever so gracefully away.