Miss Dolly's Diner: A Memory Always in the Present

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Eyelop's Owl Emporium is just around the corner. Despite not owning one, she'd always been fascinated with owls. Something about their eyes--they had a way of pulling her under. They were like these glossy pools of reflections and interpretation, reminding her of the lakes she would often find herself staring at for hours in the parks, looking for answers. They helped her think, especially in those moments of epiphany everyone has.

    Ahhh, epiphanies. She probably has more than the average person.  Her priorities seemed to change from day to day and she'd always feel confused although most of the time, as her priorities changed, she wouldn't . You see, she thought there were a few things she would always value, and so that's how she was able to do the daily conversation thing. But if instead people saw other people in a series of colors and designs, which changed based on the person you are, she was sure no one would be able to recognize her. It'd be like she was cosplaying different characters and changed costumes by the hour.

Maybe it's just that owls' eyes are so clear, and that is why she found them so fascinating. They can only see straight ahead, and they can also see in the dark. And so have a very good perception of light. They were so different from her.

There weren't lakes at Hogwarts, though. So since day one she'd often find herself sneaking into the owlry and just looking at them as she talked to herself. Probably looked insane to anyone who saw. But then again maybe she was insane.

She balanced on the curb around the corner to see owls in the glass window of the shop.

    The day was almost gone. I've spent it shopping and browsing in Diagon Alley-- most of my shopping was done at the Junk Shop, as I have a thing for old shitty stuff. Everytime I walk in the shop I find myself hoping I might find something  incredibly interesting and/or revealing-- maybe some secret message in an old ballerina trinket that would give me knowledge no one else has.  But it's not only my curiosity that drives me there.  I have to be careful with money. I started pretty low on that resource. I'm saving though.

     School would start in a week. My sixth year. I'm beyond excited.  Things have been getting darker and darker as the years went on. My class wasn't like the rest. We were special because Harry Potter was special. Because Voldemort was special. Not in a good way, of course. But as exhausted as i am of this special darkness, I have always been, even if I don't want to admit it, excited about the adventure and mystery that came with the recent strange happenings.  That's the sort of stuff I've been living on, the sort of stuff i strive on. Voldemort is rising to power again, and everything feels more pushed lately.  The streets are more dreary. More shops have been destroyed by death eaters. Everyone is going through something.  Everyone knows things are not as they used to be.  Everyone knows things are turning blacker by the second. 

     So I decide to visit Florean Fetescue's ice cream parlor one last time, for a hypothetical goodbye.  It's a fun, kiddish place, and I have a lot of good memories here.  I love the innocence of it. Makes me feel nostalgic, but refreshed. I smile a real smile when the familiar giant cone that stands on the building comes into view.  A man opens the the green door for me and politely lets me through.  It's good to see people who aren't corrupted beyond kindness.  I go through mindless chatter with the owner whom i know well. She's sort of been like a grandmother to me, so of course I get the initial "Wow, May, you get more and more gorgeous every time I see you!"
I smile and nod. "And you're aging better than Julie Andrews herself, Madame." She blushes. She's the one who introduced me to the actress in the first place. Dolores--I call her Dolly-- worships Julie Andrews like she's the tenth muse. Dolly's been able to convince me to watch every film with Miss Andrews in it more than once. You could say I'm familiar with her living room.

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