Quietly a figure sits on a seaworn boulder, watching the the gathering
figures. Almost unnoticed. She run's a pale hand through her tossled
jet hair revealing her chalk white face, and her eyes. Lined with
black, a spiral spins out from the corner of the right, her eyes pierce
the twilight shadows, watching, knowing. She has seen much, and will
see more before the end.
And now she watches the assembled group on the beach before her. All
she has met before, once at least, though they will never remember. No-
one does. All she will meet again, once at least. But she is not here
to work, but to take an interude from her task. To watch the oranges and
reds set the sky aflame with the sun's dying brilliance, a site lost to
her in her own home. The glowing flames flicker across the sliver
pendant at her neck, red against white. She smiles.
--
Didi
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