The sun was lost behind the jagged edges of skyscrapers as it set silently in the pale winter sky. Faded pink rays competed with the city of lights beneath them for the attention of late evening strollers. SoHo rushed into doors, its residents filled coffee shops, restaurants, and bars, among other entertaining prospects. Sarah sat reading in a booth by the window of her regular coffee spot playing idly with the tassels of her scarf. She had been there for hours, engrossed in Jane Eyre, one of her favorite reads. A barista kept her cup full while she sipped absentmindedly.
Once the coffee shop was flooded with talkers, laughers, and other types of noisy people, Sarah slowly emerged back into the real world. She glanced at the delicate watch on her wrist and was surprised that it was 8:30, time to go home. When she stood and gathered her things, patrons of the fine establishment noticed her. Tall and slim with long dark hair, Sarah Williams was lovely to look at, but more than that the girl had an otherworldly grace about her. With movements both elegant and sure, anyone would have mistaken her for a ballet dancer. A few onlookers watched as she paid her bill and skipped out into the night. Snow was just beginning to coat the ground as the woman tightened her scarf and headed to her beautiful, but empty, loft.
Taxis traveled up and down the streets beside her as she enjoyed the crisp taste of new winter. The chilly evening air was refreshing after the stale warmth of the coffee shop. She stood looking up into the night sky, trying to make out constellations before entering the apartment building, it was no use, however. The city drowned out the celestial bodies above her. Thankfully, the hallways were deserted. Sometimes the building seemed like an epicenter for loud creative types: eating, drinking, and being overly merry. Sarah liked a good get-together as much as the next aspiring writer, but some of her neighbors' apartments could be mistaken for hostels the way people came in and out of them.
Closing the door to her third floor loft, she scanned the room for Loki, her fluffy, somewhat large, black cat. She had found him shortly after moving to the city and they were a good pair. Loki was sitting by the balcony doors, his tail twitched while he eyed the snowflakes hungrily. He ignored Sarah as she rubbed his ear in greeting.
"Hello cat," she spoke softly, receiving nothing in response. That was alright by her, she enjoyed the fact that her pet wasn't overly needy. After fetching a single glass from a bare cabinet, Sarah opened a bottle of White Zinfandel and poured a healthy portion. Carrying the glass gingerly in one hand, she encouraged a fire in the hearth with the other. Sitting back on the thick rug against the sofa to watch the flame roar to life, she pulled a plaid throw from the arm and tucked it around her shoulders. Her life was a little lonely in the big city, but it was her own. Teaching had given her a sense of fulfillment for a few years, but before long she grew tired of lecturing students who had less curiosity than her grown self possessed. She had always been a dreamer, and thought children would share her sense of wonder, but she was wrong and very few did, her career had been a disappointment. Starting over in a new place with new ideas of what she wanted out of life had been frightening, but Sarah had learned long ago that fear could motivate you in ways that nothing else could, though she didn't remember the lesson, she trusted her own instincts. Even though her new life was wonderful in many ways, she still felt as if she were missing something very dear. Hypnotized by the dancing, flickering light of the fire, she thought out loud to herself, or the empty air in the room, or maybe even the cat, "I wish I could find you...or you could find me, whatever or whoever you are." It was a silly thing to say really, and Sarah never made wishes, but the magic of a winter's first snow, the stillness of her dark loft, and the waving light before her worked in strange ways upon her vivid imagination. A feeling deep within her called for some unnamed thing. Slowly she sank into slumber, her pale cheek resting upon her drawn up knees, enclosed in the itchy plaid blanket.
Loki drew back his ears and twitched his tail with unmasked aggression as he watched the balcony more closely. A man stood out in the cold night, crossing his black clad arms on the railing, surveying the city before him. The snow was falling with greater intensity, though it didn't bother the man. Slowly he turned crouching down to face the on guard feline through the glass. "Hello cat," he grinned. The balcony door slid open with a flick of his gloved wrist and he strode into the loft with undue swagger. Loki hissed, but held his ground. After a moment the stranger spotted what he was searching for, a woman sleeping in the floor next to the sofa that usually served as her bed in the one room apartment. Stealthily, not wanting to disturb her, he crossed the room and knelt down to better view her lovely face, lit by the soft firelight. "I was rather expecting that you would summon me again one day," he pushed the hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear, and with a soft pop, he vanished.