To Live, Not To Survive

Seen

-^-

2016 

New York City

 A small, petite girl with black hair and silver eyes, was walking down an alleyway cautiously. She was wearing a winter hat and a scarf around her neck, a green coat, and a worn out back pack was on her shoulders.

 After turning a corner, she stepped up a few stairs to a door and knocked three times, tapping her feet to keep herself busy. 

 The door opened, revealing an old man with white hair, and the man quickly let the girl inside, looking out to make sure that nobody was watching them. Then, the dark mahogany door banged shut.

 "So, Tills, how come you didn't come by earlier? It's been a month!" The man asked, as he walked over to the kitchen.

 The girl hummed a tune as she lay her back pack down on a nearby chair. 

 "I've been around. Also, it kinda slipped out of my mind. And I told you that I don't like to be called 'Tills'. It sounds like a tool."

 The girl's British German accent echoed through the house, and the man grinned.

 "Well then, what do you want me to call you?"

 "Just in case you forgot, my name's Mathilda. Make something up, will you? Like Mat. But I don't like Mat, so, anything else?"

 "Nah, I'll just call you Tills." The man chuckled as the girl scowled, her silver eyes rolling. All of a sudden, the man stopped, and glanced at the right side of her neck.

 "Uh, Tills?" He pointed at the part where he was looking. "Your, neck."

 The girl realized that a burned black tattoo of the numbers 062144 could be seen etched on her skin. She hastily pulled her scarf tighter around her, and muttered a small "Thanks, Larry."

 "So.. How's Raechel?" The man, Larry asked, as he began to make lunch. Mathilda followed him over to sneak out a chocolate chip cookie, but Larry grabbed her hand before she could.

 "Nuh uh. I'm making lunch, eat that first. Anyway, answer my question, hmm?"

 Mathilda sat on a nearby chair, pouting as she went.

 "She's fine, but she said that she had a lot of studying to do nowadays. I'm pretty sure she'll come by in a week or so... Maybe not, but still."

 "Of course she's busy, she'll be graduating school 2 years later. She's going to go to college, and she'll get a job someday, too."

 "Yeah, yeah I know." She grabbed an apple from the table, but when Larry confiscated that too, she burst out. "What, I'm hungry!"

 "Which is why I'm making lunch, kid."

 "I'm not a kid."

 "Okay, whatever you say."

 Satisfied, Mathilda sat back on her chair, and stared at Larry as he made tacos.

 "So, Tills, did you try the skittles like I told you to?"

 The girl shrugged. "No. It looked too colorful and....not good for your health."

 Larry gave her an astounded look. "Of course it's bad! Coke is bad, cake is bad, everything's bad nowadays, it's not the 1940s! I'm sure you ate apples and nuts at that time, I did too, but suck it up, 'K? It's 2016 for Christ's sake!"

 "I know, it's just... hard to get through the times." Mathilda's smile turned bitter, and Larry's face softened up a bit. "It's going to be okay," He said, as he took the Tacos to the table. "You'll be fine."