Such A Small Thing

Page 9

(Garry)

She sticks her hands in her pockets before answering, then pulls them back out and lets them hang at her sides, and looks at a wall.

"H." That's a strange answer.

"H?" I ask, just to make sure.

"Yes, H." I can tell she's not joking.

"Well, H," I say, placing my hand on her head and ruffling her hair,"I think we'll get out of here. It's just you and me, kid."

She looks up at me, my hand still on her head. I was expecting to get a glare, but I didn't get one. I got a question instead.

"How old are you, Garry?" she asks.

"Eighteen," I say, "and how old are you?"

"Fourteen," she says. That doesn't seem right somehow. Her eyes are too big, her face too young.

"Fourteen, huh? You're kinda short to be fourteen," I say.

"Fine. You caught me. I'm ten." That seems fitting.

"Ah. That seems more realistic," I say jokingly.

"Shut up. I'm not that young."

I laugh. "Such strong language for one so young. Tsk tsk."

"What can I say? Being stuck in an unknown place can bring out the worst in people," she says.

"It certainly can," I reply.

"Is that your last petal?" She asks, gesturing to it.

I look at my petal, breaking her stare. "Yeah, actually, it is."

"So..." I look back at her and she tilts her head to one side only the slightest bit. It makes her look like she's posing for a picture. "How did you end up on the ground?" she asks.

I tell her.

"No evil paintings or anything like that were involved?" she asks, still looking at me.

"Nope," I say, stuffing my petal into my pocket.

"Wow, you are lame. What happened to your coat?"

I was slightly offended by her first comment.