I told her my name. She told me hers. In some stories that’s enough to bind you. But it wasn’t in this one. Normally, at this point, we would both instinctively reach for some glamour, a charm or a small deception and pretend to be a cleverly constructed better version of ourselves. Not this time. She sat down on the dusty grass and smiled. I sat next to her. “I haven’t seen you before” I said “Where do you come from?”. She looked over her shoulder and flicked her head towards Fiveways. “Over there”. She didn’t seem to think it necessary to expand. Most people were quite specific, eager to establish their allegiance to some cul-de-sac or other. I ignored the obvious cue to shut up and blundered on. “What school d’you go to?”. “You’n half ask a lot of questions” she smiled. She laid back and stared into the starry sky. The evening was cooler now, and I laid back too. We lay there, quietly, for a little. “S’pretty though, ain’t it?” she said “I like the stars”. I shut my eyes.
I’ve just recalled that there was a girl at my school who lost her voice. She woke up one morning with only a whisper, and that continued until we left school. I don’t know if she found her voice again. Perhaps though, she traded it for something else. I don’t recall her having new skills - she was already pretty and charming and popular. But I wonder. Perhaps she encountered someone or something who convinced her that her voice was worth….well, whatever she got. If she got anything. And so it is in transactions with the other side. Be careful what you wish for.
I opened my eyes again. She had gone. She moved so quietly she’d escaped without me noticing. All that was left was the flattened dry grass and her perfume. And you can’t wash a memory or a fragrance in salt water, so you’re stuck with it.