A girl of six years was leaning against a tree in a park. The grass was as green as it could be and the park was full of children playing and laughing loudly. It was bright in the middle of the day, full of light and the bluest skies. Until hours passed and the children were all gone, and the light faded into a foggy gray drear.
The girl still sat, leaning against the tree. Her hair was brown, and as light hit it there was the slightest hint of a strange blue tint. She leaned to the right and looked behind the tree. There, in the yellow house, her mother looked towards her and waved. The girl waved in return.
“It really is a pretty day, wouldn't you say, Angela?”
The girl sat back once again and looked at the other girl beside her. “Yes,” she answered back, “but I wish this day would never end. I don't want the fog to go away. I love to see the dew on the grass.” She looked out in front of her where the dirt path was guided by trees.
“I don't want to go yet. Not yet. I want us to stay outside for just a little bit longer.”
Angela looked back to the blonde girl laying beside her. “We can stay a little longer, but not for very long.” she said. She again looked to the path guided by trees, and the girl looked with her. They both sat gazing forwards for several moments at the gray, shadowy trees. The leaves swayed in the breeze and the dark color of them blurred together. The gray over-hanging clouds created a lovely, dreary sight.
“Angela, your mom is calling,” says the girl.
“Okay. Let's go.”
Angela stood and walked to her house. As she was crossing the street, her mother opened the door and called out to her. “I was just about to call for you,” her mother pleasantly exclaimed with a smile. Angela and the girl smiled back and walked inside the house together. “I had just finished cooking supper. We're having macaroni and cheese and chicken.”
The blonde girl looked to Angela with a wide berth of a grin. “My favorite!”
Angela and the girl sat in the chairs surrounding the round dining table. Mother filled a plate and set it in front of Angela. Her mother was about to fill another plate when suddenly Angela took it from her. “I want to make Trista's plate for her.” She said with a smile. Her mother looked at her with a slightly puzzled expression, but then again the smile returned to her face. “Why,” she said, “of course my dear.”
Mother made a plate for Father and set it in his place. He came down the steps and smiled at Mother and the girls. “Ooh. Macaroni and chicken! How delicious!” he exclaimed.
“How is your work coming along?” Mother asked Father.
“Well enough,” he replied. “I still have much to do. The presentation is for the new building they will be making in Greenwich and I think it is coming along absolutely beautifully. It will be really quite large. A hundred and twenty floors.” He sat in his chair and yawned, stretching his arms out dramatically. He looked at Angela with an interested smile. “So what did you do today my little darling, Tigger?”
Angela looked up from her plate. “You mean what did we do,” she corrected. “Trisha and I sat in the park this afternoon and watched the other kids play. And Daddy, why do you not have a nickname for Trisha yet? You always make nicknames for everything, why not her? She loves maps. Can we call her maps?” she looked to Trisha, “How would you like that nickname, Maps?”
“I love that nickname,” Trisha said with a smile. Father had a worried look on his face but wiped it away with a slightly nervous smile.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Everyone cleaned their plates of food and Mother gathered them all up. “Wait. Mommy, Maps didn't finish her food yet.”
Her mother and father looked at each other, both unsure of what they should say. Her father spoke first, “Maybe she isn't hungry. She didn't even take a single bite.” He looked to the direction of where Trisha still sat. They seemed to Angela to be looking through her, not even at her, as if she wasn't even there. And then Angela realized... they couldn't see her.
“It's okay,” Angela said. “She's not hungry.”
Her mother smiled, “Okay, then.”
Angela watched her mother cross the room into the kitchen and scrape the food off the plate and into the trash can. She's never hungry, she thought to herself.
