I wanna have the same last dream again,
The one where I wake up and I'm alive
Just as the four walls close me from within,
My eyes are opened up with pure sunlight

The Adventure

by Angels and Airwaves

Tifa Lockhart is a young slip of a girl that lives alone with a nameless cat. She works a mundane job down the road from her single-bed apartment washing dishes. She gets up early, comes home late, and never misses the five o'clock train.

In conversation, she speaks in a hushed tone that dipped between words with an accent. The freckles along the bridge of her nose still visible on a fading tan. She isn't from Midgar. Too pretty. Too polite. And far too patient, sharing her train seat with a boisterous young man that made the car echo.

"You've never been? Oh, I must take you – fantastic play. You'll love it," he punctuates with a crooked grin. "Whaddya say?"

She's gazing out the window as the train races across the upper tracks, soaring over the rooftops of the plate with a thick plume of smoke. The distant iron clocktower hissing in steam as the bronze whistle chimes six times.

"Well?" he touches her knee, drawing her gaze.

She makes a small noise the back of her throat, moving her leg from his hand and crossing them. She offers only a meek smile. "No, thank you."

He furrows his brow. "Really? Come on, girl – do you have a boyfriend?" He leans into her arm easing close enough that she can smell his aftershave. Which is pleasant compared to his breath.

Tifa raises her hand between their faces, interrupting his thought as the train begins to roll to a stop. "Yes, fortunately. And this is my stop to see him," she stands, flourishes a small bow and is off the train with a "be seeing you," and swish of the mechanized door.

The train rolls away a moment latter, covering the outdoor platform in white smoke. She sighs, observing that the next one is ten minutes out.

The cat needs to be fed.

The stop is six short her own, Sector Six, the business park of the local government. Most patrons are dressed in curt suits and dark hats, slouched in their stance with briefcases and checking their watches periodically. No one seems to mind her, distancing themselves equally.

Except for one person.

Across the far stretch of platform 8 was a woman, bent at the knee, and dressed in pink. She tends to a large floral arrangement and peers through the crowd at Tifa. Being caught, she immediately averts her eyes and pulls the collar of a red jacket straight before standing with her basket.

Curious.

Tifa observes her with a tilted head. She's young, maybe early twenties, with a heart shaped face and light curled hair. Pretty from the distance with a petite figure and a shapely exposed leg. The woman risks another glance to catch the other staring this time.

She gives a small wave from the waist.

Tifa quickly snaps her head forward. There's an old man with a crooked nose across the tracks visibly chuckling. Upon eye contact, he presses his glasses back to his face before motioning with long finger.

She's prettier up close.

"Hello," says a light voice. She's taller than expected, though Tifa suspects her boots cheat her height. They're a golden tabaco with water stains on the toes.

"Hi," Tifa shyly returns.

The old man is chuckling still behind a fisted hand.

The smile the woman gives is bright. She bites her lip tentatively and pulls a thick ringlet behind her ear. "May I ask your name?"

Reflexively, Tifa checks over her shoulder. No one else – save for the man across the tracks – appears aware of their interaction. "Uh, Tifa."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tifa," she's accents her greeting by lightly touching the inside of Tifa's wrist. "Would you like a flower?"

"How much?" Tifa's eyes narrow slightly.

The woman in pink is unperturbed, laughing behind a drawn hand. "No, for free. Promise."

The flowers are a bundled assortment of yellow and ivory with thin green stalks; elegant folds with crown-like centers. It strikes Tifa then that she hasn't seen a flower since waking up in Midgar. The memory makes her chest hurt.

The woman's lips downturn slightly. "Are you allergic?" She hesitates, leaning back on her heels and giving the illusion of space.

Tifa quickly shakes her head in the negative. "No, they are beautiful. I would love to have one." Her accent slips thicker causing the other girl to smile again.

"Where ya from, Tifa?" she coyly asks, bending again to remove a full bloom from the arrangement.

"Nowhere."

The petals are white, stained at the center with pollen that freckles out. It seems to pass careful inspection before she presents the flower to Tifa with both hands.

"Well, where are you headed then?"

Tifa graciously accepts with both hands. "Sector Seven."

"Is that home?"

"Well, it is where I keep my cat."

She laughs again. "Oh?" her eyes are a dark green – bright and mischievous- and rimmed with gold. "And what's your cat's name?"

"Doesn't have one."

The woman tilts her expression. "You haven't named it?"

Tifa shakes her head.

The clocktower chimes seven times as the loud speaker announces the approaching train. Subtly, the platform patrons begin to crowd the ledge.

"Hmm," the girl absently twists a nearby curl and taps her lips twice. "What about 'Aeris'?"

"Aeris?" Tifa glances back to the flower still folded in both her hands. "I don't know. I don't think it fits Cat."

The other girl appears to pout.

"No, that came out wrong," Tifa dips her head. "I just mean to say that Cat is – well – it's a mean cat. And 'Aeris' is not a mean cat name. Does that make sense?"

The girl is thoughtful a moment, continuing to twist her curl. "I suppose. But what would you name 'Aeris'?" Tifa's confused expression prompts her to continue, "I mean to say, would you name a dog Aeris? A lizard?" She teases the word with her tongue, accentuating the "z".

"Well, I suppose a bird."

"Like a chocobo?"

"Hm, no. More like a songbird."

Another brilliant smile slips across pinks lips. The woman leans forward on her toes, bending at the waist slightly to peer up into Tifa's face. "Oh? And what color?" she asks, seemingly pleased with the answer.

"White. With a colorful," Tifa absently pulls the top of her bangs, searching for the word, "tuft – thing – some of them have. Maybe red. With a matching red chest."

"That sounds lovely."

"Well, it is a lovely name."

The platform begins to creak as the distant headlight creeps closer, the long trail of smoke from the train lofting off the sides as it bends around the corner. It fits into the station with a shrill brake before the mechanized doors open with a bell.

Tifa steps to the side, motioning for the other to board before her.

"Oh no, thank you. I'm actually waiting for someone," she responds with a polite wave.

Tifa regards her with the flower. "Well, thank you for the flower, Aeris." She boards the train to stand in the loading space, facing the platform. "Have a good evening."

Aeris is still grinning, her fair complexion pinched red in the cheeks with a blush.

"Transparent am I?"

The doors chine again to signal the intent to close.

"Yes," Tifa nods. "But also very lovely."

The doors shut with a swish as the train pulls away towards Sector Seven and a nameless cat.

I don't write many of these, thought I'd try; meaningless but practice. Feedback is always welcome. Thank you.