Ben waited just inside the doorway, letting the neon lights spill in like overflow, sparkling of the layers of clothing he wore to stave off the cold. He waited in his own pensive silence with his eyes trained on the outside world for the first elusive glimpse of the Techsorcist.
She was a ripple of darkness beneath the shadows, a shimmer within the neon that sparked and sparkled as if life fairly breathed with magic. And there she was. Soft strides marking even intervals of the ground with no sound beyond the heavy beat of his blood pumping through his ears.
With a start he realized she was standing before him, waiting for a word of greeting.
He was a spokesman, a man of fine voice, and a leader of multitudes, yet in her petite presence he struggled for his thoughts and stumbled over his words. “We-welcome, Ife.”
She smiled and nodded, hiding her eyes from him for a moment. But when she raised them again he felt a tremor of energy roll over him and her eyes, he was almost certain it had been a trick of the light, a reflection of something behind him that flickered like fire. “And I find you well, Ben Willard?”
-Washed Pure, Washed Clean by Ray Deen. From The City Anthology. Coming soon.