On parallel paths, they pulsed through the thickening crowd. Swirls of light and color gave rhythm to the coarse, moonless night. She marched toward a dream, glancing off elbows and shoulders, spinning in distraction, but not losing sight of her target. The purple tent in the foothills of the great machines promised forbidden wonders. The center pole stretched deceptively high, limp streamers glinting silver, then gold, now silver again as the spotlights passed.
He moved his foggy form through the bodies, not touching, not seeing, but sensing proximity. For him, there was no destination, only escape. He did not run, because there was no fear of pursuit. He just moved, deeper into the crowd, into his head. A thousand lights captured his scowl and he didn’t seek cover of shadows. Instead, he pocketed sweaty hands, fingering stones and willing belief.
She reached the pavilion, surprised to see no others waiting to discover their future. The ground was flat, littered with popcorn and popped balloons. She reached for the flap, slowing fingers as nerve melted. A voice invited, “Welcome,” and she halted, turning an about-face. She looked at the crowd before her, faceless swarms, backs turned intent on shared experience.
He looked up as he moved, noting faces, empty expressions, neither pained, nor satisfied. They moved in the opposite direction, seemingly of their own free will, parallel, but not together. Who were these people and why were they here? Why did they choose the heat, lines, noise and frights, instead of peace at home? He slowed and watched them move.
She spun back around, rejecting the crowd and entering the tent to find it surprisingly light. The woman seated before her on the ground, seemed peaceful surrounded by a rainbow of jeweled satin pillows. Spying the fishbowl, the girl unfolded her last dollar and placed it in the bowl, surrendering herself on a jade pillow. “Your first time?” The woman seemed to grin as she spread the stones on the dirt before her.
“Yes.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I know. I mean, how do you know?”
She definitely laughed this time. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I can always tell.”
The woman asked her to touch the stones, as many as she wanted. She hesitated at first, and then tapped four stones with her index finger and clasped hands in her lap. The woman turned the stones over, two at a time, and arranged them in a cross, selecting two additional stones and then placing the rest in the bag. The girl fingered the gold crucifix at her throat.
As the woman spun a tale, weaving past and future, the girl’s shoulders began to shake, and tears splashed, mixing with dirt and stones. She asked no questions, but thanked the woman gracefully as she lifted the tent flap and stepped into the kaleidoscope. A sudden breeze broke the night and the flag streamers crackled and flashed. She stepped away from the crowd, clearing her mind.
He moved hastily now, leaving the human sea behind, his path blocked by a wooden wagon, displaying trinkets and treasures, both old and new. A breeze picked up and an amber teardrop spun, catching his attention. He reached for the jewel, but instead of the expected hardness, he grasped warm flesh, the fingers of the girl. Startled, she tried to withdraw, but he held tight. “Go ahead,” he smiled. “You saw it first.” She hesitated, then touched the pendant where it dangled, almost out of reach. He took it down and placed it in her hand, his composure now relaxed, hopeful.
She stroked it lovingly and met his eyes, the color of the stone in her hand. The vendor coughed, shuffling her feet and tapping the counter. He spoke, “You can take it. I’ll find another.”
“No, really. I was just looking. Thank you.” She placed it reluctantly in his palm and spun away, disappearing into the human sea. Stunned for a moment, he asked the vendor the price, and quickly paid. He clutched the warm stone in his hand and ventured into the sea after the girl, flowing into the bodies before him, becoming one of them.
