She held the box in her hands, and with a smile opened it to hear the song within, a half forgotten tune which brought to mind ice cream, summer and the smell of the sea.
Bare feet on hardwood floors and the sound of a piano awash in lonely heartbreak. It was always images with her after all, she could no longer remember the sound of his voice but could describe every play of expression that ever crossed his face. Picking up his diary, she held it reverently as if it were him that she cradled against her breast. Could it ever have been any different, she wondered. Did paths chosen never alter their course? Setting the diary down with a small sigh, she shook her head against such thinking. There's no changing any of it, and only a small miracle if she herself changed at all. Sitting down before the mirror, she absently noted her pale and wan face stark against the black of her hair and remembered a day long past... She was twelve that Autumn and looked ten, all legs, pale skin, black braids and scowling face. Holding a book she boarded the train, determined to never let them see her cry. "Better to look sulky", she thought to herself, "than to ever let anyone know they've made you miserable." She pressed her face against the window and watched the colours change, even as sun set and darkness settled, she sat looking out the windows of a speeding train as if she could see the world. She wished she were older and could just run away, away from yet another school to be sent to by parents who were more indifferent than cruel and as the train screeched to a halt her reverie was abruptly broken. There would be no joining the circus for her, no running off to swing the trapeze of tame wild tigers, instead she calmly picked up her unread book and stepped off the train, to the platform and uncertainty.... A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts of the past and with a sigh, she stood up from the mirror and wondered how she would ever be able to say goodbye.
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