A Day of Dreams [narrative]
Ali pulled her hat down a little further as she walked, then tucked her hand back into its pocket. Spring was here, and winter coats were shed for another year, but the wind tunnel-like effects of a big city on its pedestrians demanded homage. She'd parked by the Common, deciding to walk the blocks between to see what was happening to the neighborhood so far.
Parking was scarce, moreso than usual even on a nice springtime Saturday. She didn't mind, the exercise was good for her. The grass in the Common was green, a vivid crayon-like memory of grass green; the sort of green grass never really grew in the world anymore. Dandelions were popping up here and there faster than the landscapers could pull them out again, and other small flowers dotted the lawns as well. In the shady areas around the trees, mushrooms and fiddleheads flourished, a veritable bounty awaiting harvest.
And there were people. Happy people, swarms of them. Children frolicked, adults smiled, middle-aged couples who the week before had been contemplating divorce were holding hands on their first date in twenty years. Teenagers spoke to their parents.
And yes, the birds were singing.
An ice-cream vendor called out to her, a warm greeting instead of a surly attempt to guilt her into spending money. She bought a bit of ice cream on a stick, covered in chocolate and painted to be a frog's face, and intended to eat it slowly. The ice cream had other ideas, and started melting before she made it out of the park. Ali crossed the street while sucking the last of the chocolate off the stick, noting the first of what would be seventeen street performers she'd run across that day: a college-aged young man singing some old love song, to the delight of an elderly couple who tearfully admitted they'd danced to the same song at their wedding as they recreated the memory.
The crowds slowed when the tree came into view. Some, seeing it for the first time, stopped mid-step to gape. Others ducked their heads and tried to pretend it wasn't there. And a special few delighted, drifting towards the fence around the lot to join the vigil. Ali followed them and stayed on the fringes, studying the mood and intentions of the crowd without getting sucked in.
The crowd both pleased and worried Ali. She was glad people appreciated the tree; the more liked it was, the less likely someone would get anywhere trying to force its removal. But some of the people had been there for days, now, and were getting delusional. That was bad.
She couldn't even stand to think about the cult that was forming on one corner, preaching the Word of the Divine Tree. That was very worrying.
Things weren't perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. There were still rude jerks, the disillusioned, downtrodden folk and people who couldn't see beyond the end of their noses. She still got shoved, insulted, and propositioned. But the air was a little fresher, the sun was bright, and there were as many smiles as dirty looks.
All in all, a good day.
Parking was scarce, moreso than usual even on a nice springtime Saturday. She didn't mind, the exercise was good for her. The grass in the Common was green, a vivid crayon-like memory of grass green; the sort of green grass never really grew in the world anymore. Dandelions were popping up here and there faster than the landscapers could pull them out again, and other small flowers dotted the lawns as well. In the shady areas around the trees, mushrooms and fiddleheads flourished, a veritable bounty awaiting harvest.
And there were people. Happy people, swarms of them. Children frolicked, adults smiled, middle-aged couples who the week before had been contemplating divorce were holding hands on their first date in twenty years. Teenagers spoke to their parents.
And yes, the birds were singing.
An ice-cream vendor called out to her, a warm greeting instead of a surly attempt to guilt her into spending money. She bought a bit of ice cream on a stick, covered in chocolate and painted to be a frog's face, and intended to eat it slowly. The ice cream had other ideas, and started melting before she made it out of the park. Ali crossed the street while sucking the last of the chocolate off the stick, noting the first of what would be seventeen street performers she'd run across that day: a college-aged young man singing some old love song, to the delight of an elderly couple who tearfully admitted they'd danced to the same song at their wedding as they recreated the memory.
The crowds slowed when the tree came into view. Some, seeing it for the first time, stopped mid-step to gape. Others ducked their heads and tried to pretend it wasn't there. And a special few delighted, drifting towards the fence around the lot to join the vigil. Ali followed them and stayed on the fringes, studying the mood and intentions of the crowd without getting sucked in.
The crowd both pleased and worried Ali. She was glad people appreciated the tree; the more liked it was, the less likely someone would get anywhere trying to force its removal. But some of the people had been there for days, now, and were getting delusional. That was bad.
She couldn't even stand to think about the cult that was forming on one corner, preaching the Word of the Divine Tree. That was very worrying.
Things weren't perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. There were still rude jerks, the disillusioned, downtrodden folk and people who couldn't see beyond the end of their noses. She still got shoved, insulted, and propositioned. But the air was a little fresher, the sun was bright, and there were as many smiles as dirty looks.
All in all, a good day.