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They haven't seen each other for a long time, a couple of years. Her, him and a couple of other people were an inseparable bunch in their high school years. Then they took different paths. After some time the contact disappeared almost completely.
She changed during these couple of years. In the past, despite her gothic image, she probably was the most cheerful person in the group. Incessantly, one could think, smiling, always trying to amuse other people. She seemed to be always looking at the world optimistically. Only in her drawings one could from time to time see more negative emotions that she didn't show in any other way.
Now, however, she looked like one of lost angels she told the rest of the group about in the past. She lost much weight, dyed her beautiful red hair black, the sleeves of a black shirt covered her palms and a black skirt reached her ankles.
She looked at him with empty eyes, in which cheerful sparkles were always shining in the past. If she didn't bow her head a little to greet him and a shadow smile didn't appear on her emotionless face, he would think that she didn't recognize him. He himself couldn't speak a word for a while.
"You changed so much...", he said finally.
"Time passes, people change", she replied in a flat voice.
They went for some tea. They were talking about this and that. Once or twice he managed to amuse her enough to make the same sparkles as the ones from the past show up in her eyes shyly. He was intrigued what happened to her, so he asked. She was silent for a while, looking at the cup she was holding in her hands.
"That's simple", she said finally and sipped some tea, "Once again there was noone by my side when I needed help. Once again people were gossiping about me, not paying attention that I was standing by them and hearing everything. Once again nobody told them to stop. This once was once too much", she said and turned her eyes away. "Usually...Usually I could help myself, but sometimes even I need help that I didn't get", she added, looking outside through a window.
As she was sitting like that, deep in thoughts about who-knows-what, he noticed a brooch made of black feathers, a butterfly with ragged wings, pinned to her shirt.
"Tell me...", he talked down, what pulled her out of her thoughtfulness, "Do you still draw?"
"Yes...but more sing and play keyboard. I perform in smaller clubs. They call me...", her eyes shone in a strange way, "...Kuro Ageha."
That's one of my short stories. I wrote it in April. So...tell me what you think? sweatdrop
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