Reagan Tyndall
Visitor
3 months after her 11th spring….
Hands that were too large connected to arms that were likewise too long for the small body they were connected to. One long scraggly dirt brown braid trailed down a skeleton back where every rib was accounted for as she pressed her nose on the top of the display case glass.
“Fingerprints would have been bad enough.”
The oddly shaped head lifted up only to quietly utter a, “huh?”
Taking a rag from behind the counter a young woman with not one, but two braids of her own held it out with her index and pointer finger to the girl. She gestured to the smudged glass her nose had been against a moment ago. Distant brown eyes accompanied the hand in slow motion. No word of argument was to be found as the girl took it and wiped clean the case.
“Rule three, always clean up after yourself. Have you ever seen knives before?”
“Yes.” It was almost inaudible. Like the air refused to break against the voice.
“Do you know how to use one?”
“Yes.”
Every reply was as quiet as the last. It was clear that though only the two of them were in the room, they were not alone.
“Do you know how to make them?”
“No.”
“Seems to me that one should know how the weapon they use is made.”
“Ma’am?”
“Come by tomorrow about this time and we will start lessons.”
“Yes. No. Yes ma’am.”
“You can call me Winny.”
“Reagan.”
Sometimes, thought Winny, the weight of the world fell the most on the smallest of shoulders.
Hands that were too large connected to arms that were likewise too long for the small body they were connected to. One long scraggly dirt brown braid trailed down a skeleton back where every rib was accounted for as she pressed her nose on the top of the display case glass.
“Fingerprints would have been bad enough.”
The oddly shaped head lifted up only to quietly utter a, “huh?”
Taking a rag from behind the counter a young woman with not one, but two braids of her own held it out with her index and pointer finger to the girl. She gestured to the smudged glass her nose had been against a moment ago. Distant brown eyes accompanied the hand in slow motion. No word of argument was to be found as the girl took it and wiped clean the case.
“Rule three, always clean up after yourself. Have you ever seen knives before?”
“Yes.” It was almost inaudible. Like the air refused to break against the voice.
“Do you know how to use one?”
“Yes.”
Every reply was as quiet as the last. It was clear that though only the two of them were in the room, they were not alone.
“Do you know how to make them?”
“No.”
“Seems to me that one should know how the weapon they use is made.”
“Ma’am?”
“Come by tomorrow about this time and we will start lessons.”
“Yes. No. Yes ma’am.”
“You can call me Winny.”
“Reagan.”
Sometimes, thought Winny, the weight of the world fell the most on the smallest of shoulders.