It’s well past the time when Chantal should be home, tucked safely in her four-poster bed, even by her own standards, so she’s not entirely surprised when she falls asleep on the walk home. Right after the clock chimes, she collapses softly in a doorway, her handbag in her lap, and doesn’t move as the world churns around her. Buildings shift,
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He sets out to return home, but the streets have changed, and without meaning to, he gets lost. He frowns at he sight of the carnival -- who has time for such frivolities -- but perhaps someone there can tell him how to get back to his neighborhood.
He spots Chantal as she goes around the carousel. Isn't that the Von Krumrhein girl? "Uh... Miss? Pardon me, Miss?" He calls out as her horse comes around.
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"Ye-e-es?" she chirps musically in response. "Can I help you?"
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"I... ah, I'm afraid I'm lost..." She's already on the other side of the carousel. He sighs and looks up, feeling foolish, and catches sight of the birds carved on its top. Robins, bluebirds, cardinals --
One of the birds is an owl, and it feels him with a sudden dread. When Chantal appears around again, he looks pale.
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"Oh, dear, you don't look well at all," she tsks softly. "I'm sorry, I'll behave myself. Maybe you had better sit down..."
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"I don't belong here," he adds quietly. He's not sure why he said it, but it sounds right.
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She takes his arm, not sure why she's being so helpful, except that he's the only one around to entertain her, and this has to be better than being cooped up at home. "Yes, you said you were lost," she completely misses any deeper meaning to his statement. "Where do you live? Maybe we can find you a cab."
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She smiles brightly. "We'll just have to find someone else who knows their way around better."
In her glancing around, she spots a little stand with a red and white striped awning and lights still on inside. The proprietor, a bearded man, is half-asleep sitting up, but the chalkboard propped outside the little shack lists several different kinds of beverages for sale, both hot and cold. Again, she points. "Look, do you want a soda or something? My treat. I think I could use a coffee to clear my head."
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He looks over at the drink stand, then back at Chantal, surprised. "Oh... really?" It doesn't seem right, letting a lady pay for him, but he can't remember if he spent the last of his change on the subway and he is thirsty. "A lemonade, if you don't mind." Such a nice girl. He was wrong to think otherwise.
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"Thank you," he says, accepting the cup. "Perhaps business is not going as well as expected." The carnival seems awfully empty to him. So many rides and attractions, yet so few people are milling about.
He takes a sip, then smiles in surprise. "Oh, this is very good." Much better than he expected, in fact. He takes another sip.
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"Mmn. Do you feel better now? I want to walk around a little. I mean, as long as we don't know where we are, we may as well look around." She beams at him innocently.
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He stands up shyly offers Chantal his hand. Just to help her up, of course. There's something about her... something different.
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"I don't believe I know your name," she says with a laugh. "I'm Chantal von Krumrhein."
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His smile returns. "Well, let's see what this carnival has to offer." He strolls past the beverage stand, finishing the last of his lemonade and tossing the cup into the trash. He's tempted to get another, but it can wait. There is a haunted house that sticks out from the stands. Bats with comically large eyes are painted above its entrance, and cheesy recorded moans and cries emerge from within.
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"Oh, lets! I never get to go places like this," she gushes a little, following him. Her heels beat a staccato rhythm on the packed earth. She's way overdressed for the place, but she doesn't seem uncomfortable. It's as if she were born in her red cocktail gown. She takes the last sip of her coffee by the trash can and tosses the cup away, as well.
"Bats!" she points, finding the haunted house inordinately amusing for some reason. "Look, they're smiling!" She laughs. "Shall we go in?"
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