Night and Day

Epilogue

To anyone watching, nothing would have appeared to be out of the ordinary. When you lived in the city, you were surrounded by action, and what followed was, unfortunately, a common occurrence in such busy quarters. A young man-who was really quite young-was being dragged away, kicking, by a patrol of police. Their cars sat in front of a large, expansive apartment, and I could not help but wonder if he was a sort of drug dealer. He was unassuming at best; his hair was dark, short, and totally normal. His clothing was hardly overt, and he was, really, rather unassuming.

The only other diversion that followed was a boy's excitement when he stumbled upon something that gleamed and beamed: rushing into the corner store, he was hugging a brand new phone to his chest, cradling it as though it were a brand new infant. He skipped up to me, exclaiming, before sliding the thin device across the counter for me to examine.

I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes and stared at it. It was a plain phone, pretty and commonplace. It was in remarkably good condition too, but there was no owner to be found. The only hint that there ever had been an owner came in the form of a perplexing epilogue, which we stooped to read together, the boy and I:

Eventually, you have to put your past behind you. You have to acknowledge that you are, in fact, an adult, and you have to put away the toys. Life is not a fairytale. You are not Snow White. You might dream of riches-of a castle or a fancy car-yet, at the end of the day, you are an ordinary human like everybody else. You are not immune to disease; you are not immortal. You will live, and you will die, like us all. No amount of money can save you, and that is the honest truth.

That is why, on a hot summer day, I walked away to take my chances in life. I did not even give myself a guaranteed future, because that is not how the world works. I did not win the lottery, because luck is fickle. Instead I moved on, and, as I did, the police crowded in, taking away a young man who had made a mistake-a mistake he would pay for dearly, like everybody else. The leering cars drove away, and my gift-a curse-evaporated like water in the early morning. All my silly fancies rose up like steam, and nothing solid could be formed from a girl's games.

I have no special power. I wonder if I ever did. I have only my skills, my kindness, and my own secret store of strength. I can only trust to luck, or fate, or whatever you will believe in. I can only act on instinct, and trust that my feet will take me where I need to go. Life will be peppered with up's and down's, and, like a swift ship, I will bear each undulating wave.

It is all unpredictable, and I am content with this fact.

We stared at the piece, confused, until the boy shrugged and shut the phone off.

"You don't suppose I can keep this phone, as a bit of good luck?"

I examined it again, and shrugged. "It seems obvious to me that the owner left it on purpose."

"Wow, a new phone," the boy breathed.

"Yes, take it," I muttered, turning to wipe down the counter. "It doesn't matter to me."

I watched the boy move through the store-acting as all excited children do-before pausing outside to doodle a little. From the window I perceived him sketching, working away at a rather detailed mouse. I saw him adding a woman, obviously a cashier, to his masterpiece, and I saw her crying out as the rodent scurried over her feet.

When the boy had contented himself with his drawing, he laughed and moved away, examining, again, his brand new phone.

I shook my head and returned to my work. A warm weight startled me and I glanced down to see a grey mass scuttling along.

I cried out, and watched as a fat mouse bounded out the door.