In the Fading Twilight.

Mademoiselle sat brooding on the armchair, one leg crossed over the other and her left elbow resting on the chair's armrest with her hand touching her chin. The room was dim. Outside, the bare bones of winter jut out high from the ground, the softer branches quivering slightly with every gust of blustery wind. The stillness of the view out the window deceivingly belied the chill that hung in the air outside, the sharp bitter coldness that would seep through the walls and cracks were it not for the modern marvel of double glazing windows. 

It was just me and her today. And it had been a while since it was just the two of us. She cut a long silhouette and the light streaming in from the window gleamed silver on her skin where it illuminated her left side.

 

Mademoiselle was not one to mince words. We both knew what was on our minds but no one knew the words to say it. Some things perhaps were better understood unspoken. 

 

A flash of warm golden light flared into existence and died off as quickly as it appeared as Mademoiselle lit a stick and exhaled a stream of white smoke. 

It had been a long time indeed and as we sat and watched the twilight approach in the fast growing gloom, it occurred to me that perhaps we should have made the meeting earlier. The sunlight was much more preferable company than an azure blue evening. 

 

I sat quietly and watched Mademoiselle admire the growing gloom in the outside sky. With want for something better to do, I looked at her intently, studied her, carefully noting the creases in that black coat, the silken scarf, the wild, unbrushed hair. The solidity of black, the wall of black and gold and red and silver. She was a solid wall, a pillar of strength and certainty when all around things are shaken. She never was affected. She was not human. And yet all too human. For I knew, in the quiet hours of being alone, she fears the thoughts that come haunting back from whence they've been banished by the distraction of daily life and activities. Living hard and cold is well enough but sometimes those pesky thoughts are not so easy to get rid of. A sign that she was not after all a lost cause. No lost causes here. We are all redeemable.