With the weather cooling down, Lane had begun taking more of her lunch breaks outside than she had previously. The leaves hadnât started to turn yet, but they would, soon enough, and she found herself taking daily photos of the same tree, from the same bench, every day, where she spent the hour sitting still as a stone. In a month or two sheâd have a slideshow of the progression of the season. She wasnât sure what sheâd do with it, but it, and observation of the other noontime regulars and visitors, was something to put her focus on.
Apart from the fact that she was no longer human.
Lane supposed she ought to be more upset. But perhaps dying and coming back at all had been enough of a shock, like plunging into a winter ocean and being smacked by a frozen wave, that sheâd acclimated to any other sudden changes.
Perhaps, too, sheâd always been like this: ready to search out the unknown and learn every secret it had to offer. She, too, was an unknown now, and it turned what could have been a horrifying change, like those of any of her fledgling friends, into something to study. As far as she knew (as far as the Traveler had conveyed to her), she was something entirely new.
Lane sipped her latte and eyed a passerby from her perch, where she sat . Were they human? Would she become human again, if she could? How many of the others in this park were, and how many asked themselves the same questions?
Her blue eyes landed on an older man across the way. Heâd caught her eye early on in her lunchtime visits, with his own kind-looking eyes and the cheerful smile he seemed to procure for everyone, from the white-collar secretaries and staffers stretching their legs for the first time in hours to the finches hopping around the grass searching out seeds leftover from the morning feedings. It was a smile that seemed to have everyone, even the most exhausted desk workers, perking up the slightest bit.
Hm. She glanced down to one of the birds puttering around in the grass near her and snapped a corner off one of her crackers for it.
Russell had noticed the redheaded young woman early on in her visits to the park. He saw a lot of people in his day to day life, but redheaded young women tended to stick in oneâs memory quicker than others. Especially ones who were so consistent. If he came at the right time of day sheâd be there, sitting alone on that bench.
The first day heâd actually thought she was waiting for someone... and admittedly thought maybe that was the case on the second day too. But no, she clearly chose to sit alone with her thoughts during her lunch breaks. Not unusual - a white-haired old man who parked himself next to the fountain every sunny day did the same, just him and the birds.
(He was a dentist, as it turned out, discovered when Russell had struck up conversation one day a month or so back.)
What did the redheaded young woman do though, that she was on lunch break from?
Russell wasnât stupid, he knew approaching a young woman sitting alone to strike up conversation was not always the friendly gesture some people thought it to be. And maybe she wanted to sit on that bench and not have to talk to a danged person for an hour and he wouldnât interrupt if that were the case.
On the off chance that she was interested in conversation...
Well, she could make the choice if she wanted. But to set things up a little more smoothly, he leaned over to the public checkers table he was sitting next to (a chess table, more realistically, but he was never interested in chess) and pulled out a little bag of checker pieces he kept on hand for his trips to this park. Carefully (but audibly), he began methodically setting them up on the board.
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