Appreciating clothing and the comfort of fabric is where the similarities of preference of shopping ends, between myself and Christina. Currently she is seated across from me, sipping on her mango passion fruit whatever smoothie and eyeing me like I hold the secret to all lifes meanings. I sigh at her, of course, she wants to know if I met any semi attractive guys last night while I have food in my mouth. Thank you pizza, for giving me an excuse to savor you and stall. It's not that I didn't meet anyone, quite the opposite, actually. She doesn't need to know that.

She crosses her arms at me, fingering the green straw at the lid of her drink, eyes narrowed as always. A smug smile spreads along her lips like a cat to bowl of creme. The wind today is miniscule and very light, but it is a bit chilly, the teachings of spring still clinging to the city. The sky couldn't be prettier, a deep waking blue, little cotton like fluff clouds chase each other through the atmosphere, at a slow pace but quick enough to watch. The sun is warm on my back, heating my hair, fighting the bumps that rise on my skin as I think about answering her. One person in particular stood out to me, only because I listened in, the music forcing me to fully grasp every word he said in that low and soothing voice of his. I would never admit who exactly he was, but I didn't see the harm in telling her there was a guy.

I sigh, finished with everything on my plate, eyeing the pizza stall we had gone to, pondering on whether or not I should get another slice. Christina clears her throat and pulls her knees up to the table, leaning back in her chair lazily as her knees secure her. I run a hand through my hair and bite my lip, "Okay, there was a guy-"

"I fucking knew it, was he hot? What did he look like? Was he nice-gentlemanly? How did you meet?"

"At the bar,"

"Okay,"

"And he was nice,"

"Ahuh,"

"And handsome,"

"Annnnnnd?"

"That was it," I say, smiling at the table, there was much more than that, but it was very unlike me to feel attracted to someone I just met, even if I had been thinking of them. Christinas jaw dropped, and she stared at me accusingly, hand slamming on the table and her eyes furious, "Beatrice Fucking Prior! What happened? You didn't exchange names or numbers?"

"Names, yes,"

"What's his name?"

"That is disclosed information," Shock spreads across her face, and she stares at me for a moment, before she gives up and shakes her head at me. Snatching her drink from the table again she rises, looping her arm through all the bag handles, which were many, before she looks at me again. I sigh and stand as she says, "You know what, you need to get out more,"

"I work at a bar, Chris, I am now the very place people get-out to," I say back, watching as she rolls her eyes at me, closing her lips around her straw again. She has a habit of chewing her straws, "Look," I say, "Let's just agree to disagree that I won't talk about any of this relationship stuff? Yeah?"

"Mhm, whatever," She says, smirking at me as I pick up our trash and throw it away and recycle in the designated places. When I turn around, she's followed me and is holding out my two bags for me. Its an hour later of walking do my heels start to ache, and the sun start to hang lower in the sky, I don't mind either one. The sunsets here in the city are breathtaking, and blinding, painting the streets in its royal orange and gold glow, but reflecting off of each window, painting buildings white gold and polishing them. It's a surreal look for the windy city. I like it. If I had my camera with me, I might have taken a picture. I saw things most other people didn't and I dared to go places others were more than fearful of to get that perfect snap of another world. Christina smiles at me and grabs my free hand, pulling me along with her to the near entrance to the outdoor mall, she sits me down on a bench and sighs at me.

I give her a look as she vacantly stares out into the world, watching the people walk by, and the cars pass us in the street. Her silence unnerves me, and it's when she smiles at me sadly do I understand she wants to talk about my loss, "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing better,"

"Good, that's good," She mumbles, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really,"

"It's good to talk about it," She insists, if she weren't my friend, my frustration and sadness would eat me whole and make me explode on her, but instead I end up sighing at her. Looking away from her wide imploring eyes and out to the semi busy street, "There were so many things I never got to say to them," I begin, swallowing the lump in my throat and glaring as though my watering eyes would fear it, "And you never just-you're never prepared, one minute you have a complete loving family, and the next it's, just gone. And there's nothing you can do to get them back," I pause, drawing in a shaky breath, "There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, a freak accident that killed two wonderful people, and took out all the material memories with them." My glaring falters, as does my voice when her hand shoots around my shoulder, the wells of liquid pain flowing over my cheeks and down my face, the quiet tap as they fall onto my clothing. I manage to choke out to her, "That's the hardest part-I can't do- anything about it," My fingers dig into her knee as she pulls me into a comforting hug. But it isn't comforting, not when I feel so empty, so useless.

Her hand slowly pets my hair, the other gently rubbing into my back as I confess everything I'll never get to say, "No goodbye, I never got to say that to them, I'll never get to hug my mom, or see dad again," stuttering helplessly in her arms, I know I'm probably annoying, that I should get my shit together, but it all just hurts, so much. A hollow laugh escapes me, the lonely image of my brother, my too smart brother falling into a pit of addiction because he's lost everything too, comes to my mind intrusively. That cigarette to his lips, "And Caleb's given up, I don't know what to do anymore, Chris, the world sucks right now, I need help,"

"I'm here to listen if you need me,"

"I don't want to-"

"You're my sister Tris, you never take up my time," She hushes me, smoothing my hair and gripping me close to her. Eventually, the body shaking stops, and the empty starts to consume me, the pang in my chest is sharp and relentless, and I feel like a child crying in public. Ashamed at such an emotional display. The sun has sunk like a burning anchor behind the city skyline, the streaks of red and pink on the clouds a bright contrast against the purpling and bruising sky. I need to go home.

My house is empty, and just as I left it, smelling faintly of my shower and Christina's perfume. A heavy sigh works its way into my chest, but is never released, instead I weave my way around my kitchen island and place down the few groceries I picked up after the mall trip, the oven light my only source of vision. Slowly my hands work to organize the items and remove them from the bags, a strange feeling welling up in me. Along the lines of an urge, to throw something. Slowly and carefully, my palms settle on the counter, eyes falling shut as a warm feeling surges through me. My head suddenly swims, eyes shooting open only to see a fuzzy and consuming black, breath rushing suddenly from my lungs of lead, the world tilts again.

The world comes to in a slow blur, a focusing of a camera lense, green surrounds me, dark towering figures surround me, soft encasing me protectively, something flittering over my face, the soft gusts of wind teasing the small hairs around my face. My lungs take in one sudden deep breath and I shoot up, the butterflies covering my body startling and erupting from my clothes in a swirl of colors, entrancing me as I struggle slowly to my feet. A few lingering in my hair even as I reach up for them, and then I realize, I'm in a forest. My eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow, the muscles tensing on my face as I turn to the snap of a stick.

I almost wish I hadn't. There she stands, in her wedding dress, young and beautiful, hair slightly wild and eyes just as surprised as mine. Sheer joy rocks through me as I stumble closer, her body tensing as my tears fall for her, "Mom," I croak, and suddenly her warm embrace is all I feel, small, warm, protected.

I'm in her lap now, a little girl reading my favorite story with her, vanilla cinnamon candles lit around us in her personal study, a cream blanket around us in her favorite chair. The wood carved into various symbols she never explained to me, and the wolves, carved perfectly into the legs, into the back. She bounces her leg, smiling kindly at me, her white blonde hair I inherited from her falling over my shoulder as she looks at my fascinated face. I remember this, late at night I had a nightmare, and she read to me to calm me down. I turn to catch her face up close, to study her because I won't be able to. But she looks up, startled by something in the doorway. My own head whips and I'm blinded.

Heat encases me, uncomfortably, my clothes searing off, engulfed by the unforgiving, unfeeling and all consuming red around me. The air chokes me, and burns my skin, my eyes water as ashes fly into them, into my hair. Then the sound hits, and I'm in the fire, in the hallway of my family home with the pictures of us on the walls still. Panic becomes my blood, as a scream bursts my ears. Down the hall, I stutter, hesitant as things fall from the ceiling, the walls peeling and melting, the house screaming in its own way. "Mommy!" A child screams in fear.

My feet fly down that hallway faster than ever, my shoulder ramming into a door, splintering it and shattering my shoulder. I cry out, eyes squinting in pain, but more to the harsh of the flames. The room is nearly destroyed completely, save for a woman, and her little blonde child, "Mommy!" She screams in fear again, and I watch in horror as the dark haired woman catches on fire.

"Natalie!" The woman cries in such agony I fall to my knees, falling through the floor, watching the woman throw the girl out the window, away from the fire. Darkness engulfs me, wrapping me in a thick blanket of drowsiness and something heavy.

Ashes, are like room temperature flakes of snow that become powder beneath your fingers. They twitch, digging into the ground, touching warm wood, charred pieces of furniture. My body aches, my head throbs, yet still, I manage to open my eyes to a consumed house of foundation and blackened posts that once made up a beautiful building. My clothes are covered in a sad soot, in a thick grey, one that I could never wash off. I'm on my feet slowly, wincing at the weight. Then I'm walking, frowning at the destruction, fighting off the tears because this is familiar, this is personal, and deep.

I stop, standing still and staring at a shiny piece of metal. My fingers pinch the ashes, draining them through and revealing the chain, the metal glittering and dangling down the side of my hand. The rosary slowly swaying back and forth, a single gem in the epicenter. My finger runs over it, taking in the ridges of the carefully carved metal, of the cut gem, of the glaring chains that held it, cool in my palm as ash flittered down like grey butterflies from the sky.

I spun, stopping short as hands gripped me violently, nails digging into my arms as the horrified look of the burning woman stared me in the face. I screamed as she cupped my face, speaking in a language I didn't understand, and then, suddenly I did, without her lips moving her tears fell like black rivers of something haunting, her voice consuming all I was, "Beatrice no!"

I gasped, sitting up and hauling in air to my lungs, crawling away from my spot in the kitchen, dragging myself from the place of horrors. Eyes wide and lungs panting I stared at the ground as though, it was not my mind playing these tricks but instead something else. And then suddenly I cried, laying back on my floor and covering my face, the fear gone and replaced by a deep sadness. No, I really had lost everything.