One Of These Characters Isn't Sad

i

Hot water.

I don't know what hot water feels like. Or cold water, or room temperature water, or any water at all, for that matter. But the feeling running through me right now is what I imagine hot water would feel like, if I could feel it. I like the feeling. It courses through me, ripples across my skin, warms me up. But under the surface, I know it has the potential to scald me.

I wonder if I'd like that feeling, too.

She is walking down the street, a bookbag over her shoulder. Her hair shines like gold. She steps neatly and evenly along the sidewalk. I can't see her face, but I don't need to see her expression to read the emotions she's giving off. It's not quite happiness. There is no overt joy in her walk. She's simply . . . pleased. Content. She is perfectly satisfied to be walking down the street at this exact moment. I've never seen anything like it before.

It feels like hot water.

I feel the ping of my next assignment coming in, but I don't have to look at it to know it's about her. There is something about this woman that makes me feel as though the world is spinning around her. Something in the way she holds herself that drew me in long before I knew I had to pay attention. She walks into a store, walks out with a birthday card and two candy bars. Returns to her even, perfect stride along the sidewalk. I finally glance down at the assignment, just to see her name. Margaret Kirkland.

I don't want to read the rest just yet. I don't want to know what it is I have to do. I'd rather just watch her and her golden hair walk along the sidewalk forever. Watch how content and at peace she is. I don't want to think about how I might have to disrupt that peace.

Margaret Kirkland. She feels like hot water.