Irene 1

Pantomime, phantom shapes and shadows overlaid with drizzled silver lining the edges of the light. Dancing movement caught shining orbs, reflecting gratification as they observed the persisting display with rapture. Then a great gasp as the alligator was swallowed whole and reborn from its fading shimmer, a rabbit escaping certain carnivorization, retreated suddenly to soft translucence as the overhead fixture illuminated the room, drawing a collective sigh of discontent. Tidings of chocolate mousse, however, quickly subdued the disparaging remarks and scampering footfalls hurried inward towards the dining room.


As hostess and guests filtered away, the artist remained, lingering, hands still flexed in taloned fixtures of lost continuity in the saturating light. The solemn pensive moment was cut brief by three soft words from the open entrance leading out of the parlor.

"Are you coming?"

Looking up the artist nodded to the young fawn, golden hair framing her supple features and icy blue doe eyes. The request was not one he would refuse, least of all on this day.

"Yes, right behind you."

Thin lips curled gracefully and she pirouetted, disappearing again out of his sight, leaving only singed coals behind, remnants of her emblazoned presence. He pursued, yet the room by then was overfilled and he managed only a distant place in the archway on the far side. She sat, of course, at the head of the table, absolutely glowing, ring of thirteen lit candles in front of her. Thirteen sentinels begging for a wish. The song was bright and a cheer rose afterwards. She was laughing, he noticed, couldn't help but see her smiling happily. And then the presents were presented.

One by one wrapper was torn and cast aside, new joy discovered in each box. Scarfs, shoes, clothing and accessory until at last the parents passed along a final bundle. She knew. It had to be, not that she would have been upset if they hadn't, she understood the cost. Eager hands tore open the package and a friend's piercing excitement reverberated through the room matched by echos of awe he couldn't help but repeat.

"A terminal.."

The device lay pristine, cutting edge, on the table while she leaped gratefully into awaiting outstretched arms. It dwarfed all else. His gaze blurred, turning back. Back through time. Back towards the kitchen and through to the garage, in which was discretely positioned his own tribute, now seemingly insignificant.