A New Day

          Today is a new day, she finishes brushing her hair. For most, it is an ordinary Friday morning; for Liz it is yet another attempt at something new.

          On this brisk January morning, instead of going straight to a cafe for a piping hot coffee, she heads to the gently wooded trail down the block. Weilding her bag and her keys, she stands at the sidewalk awkwardly. I'm not athletic, I look ridiculous on this trail in my puffy coat. Last time I came here... what was it for? She strains to remember the previous summer, how she had waddled around, binoculars in hand as she tried to spot and document various birds. Hah, that sure got me far in life, even birds don't want anything to do with me, couldn't see more than the one cardinal, she muses with a furrowed brow. Her focus is only broken when she hears quickly approaching steps. A runner.

          She waits for him to pass, skin tight leggings and thin tank top somehow adequate against the chill, heaves a big sigh, and takes a shaky step in the direction he came from. The creek should be this way, hopefully there is something good over there, her thoughts trail off as the asphalt abruptly ends and turns into dirt and gravel. The stiff crunch of each step is the only noise in the frozen clearing. There is a layer of frost on the nearby bench, and many rocks and chunks of concrete scattered around.

          Let's start small, I guess. Liz picks up a handful of pebbles before deciding ultimately they were too small. A smooth rock near her foot, the size of a softball, catches her eye. She turns it around in her hand, the brown stripes and a big crack really give it character. She winds up, coat swishing against itself, and pitches it as far as possible. It lands a measly ten or so feet away, and she laughs aloud.

          "Clearly it needs some work. Have you tried aiming first?"

She jumps. Where did this brat come from? The teenage looking girl with short blue hair walks closer. "It's rude to sneak up on people like that!" Liz huffed.

          "Sorry, I didn't realize I was sneaking up when I asked what you were doing with that rock. So, what's your deal?"

          Excuse me, 'deal?' She blinks at this child, "I don't have a deal, why would you say that?"

She rolls her eyes, "it's early and you're clearly not a jogger. Nobody comes to this part of the creek unless they've got a 'deal.'"

          Liz's face flushes, whether from anger at feeling spied on or embarrassment at being figured out by this kid who is too young to remember Shrek she does not know. She hurries over and plucks the same stone off the ground. "I'm just looking for something for a project," she mumbles. This seems to satisfy the girl, as she just sat on the gravel and watched as Liz stuck the rock in her bag and hurried off.

          From behind she heard the girl call out "show me when you finish!"

          She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket as she emerges back into society. She fumbles to get it out and turn off the alarm. Nerves from being caught? Numb from the cold? Crap, I'm so late.

          She arrives to work only to see the staff already busy, guests shuffling in and out, tables filling up. Liz moves through the motions, spits out her long rehearsed shpiels, and smiles her way through the day, meanwhile her thoughts dwell on the colors she might want to put together. How to embrace the crack down the side. That stone is what she's been most excited about in weeks. Finally the shift ends, and as the next shift arrives, Liz all but runs out the back door before speeding down the highway home.

          She walks in the door, recalling that girl from the morning. The way her smile felt as fake as Liz's, how her amber eyes rested calmly on a strangers face. Taking off her coat, she bumps into her side table, knocking small origami flowers and cranes to the ground. Ugh, I'll clean that later. She admires the disaster that is her one bedroom apartment. The recipe books with pages stained from failed meal prep, the dishes piling up in the sink, the months old Halloween wreath she got halfway through putting together before getting frustrated and giving up.

          Ignoring all of that, she quickly places some unfolded newspaper on a clear spot in the middle of the floor, gently setting the stone in the middle. Finally, she is ready.

          She grabs her brushes and takes blue paint in meandering stripes around the stone, golden tones as thinly outlined bubbles around the stone, and a dark grey shade sponged around the stone atop it all, darkening the originally bright colors. She lets it to dry, but something doesn't feel right yet. She shrugs and heads to bed anyway. In the morning it dawns on her. She takes her paint and adds a bright red heart right over where the crack is, fills the crack with black paint, and admires the change. Now it feels right.

          Another day trudges on and before she knew, Liz was heading home once again from a busy shift ready to turn out for the night. Her sleep is restless and she wakes early again. She groans and decides to get another stone since she has nothing better to do. She feels comforted by the first one, so she sets it in her bag, momentarily uncomfortable with how heavy it now felt. Bundled up, she goes back down the quiet street to the end of the block. It's barely past midnight, but the sky is clear and the moon casts a gentle blue tone over the world as she crunches back down the path toward the creek.

          Before long, Liz sees a familiar blue head of hair, hunched over the gravel, running her fingers across the ground. The girl looks up, her face is gleaming. What, are those tears? "Hey. What's your deal?" Liz quietly asks.

          The girl sits quiet for a moment longer before answering, "I don't have a deal."

          Liz just sighs and sits next to the girl. She rummages through her bag and pulls out the stone. It's warm compared to the winterized earth. "Its my first one. I want you to have it. Who knows if I'll end up making another, so it could be worth something someday. It's one-of-a-kind! So you had better take care of it." The girl just stares at it, holding her breath. Liz sets in in the girl's scraped up hand, the heart facing the child. "My name is Liz."

          The girl wipes her eyes as subtly as possible, "I'm-" her voice hitches in her throat, "I'm Zoe." She breaks down, hugging her knees to her chest and holding the stone against her chest.

          Liz scoots in, "so, Zoe, its your turn first, what's your deal?"

          The two girls talk until dawn breaks and they are both shivering. They part ways, and for a change, Liz now keeps up with her new hobby, hoping to see that broken girl with a genuine smile should their paths cross again. Sometimes she brings the finished projects and replaces them where she originally found them, but Zoe and that first project never seem to appear. Her only comfort comes from periodically finding the stones gathered into one pile, sometimes sorted by shape, or size, or color. Somehow that is enough for Liz to know, or at least to hope.