Cafes were a good enough way to pass the time. Human drama unfolding outside the window, watching everybody pass by, living out their lives, lost in themselves, acting as though they were unobserved. They gave away clues, hints, promises - she could learn enough about them to become them in the time it took her coffee to cool.

Or perhaps she created them, watching them pass by - that man there, he was meeting his lover, the new young man in his office. His brother (he lived with his brother, and a dog) didn't know, and he was terrified that...

He was coming. Footsteps down the hall.

And, of course, he was alone. Nobody else inhabitated this old house - his wife had disappeared, a long time ago now. He can't blame her, it's impossible to blame her, after that - after their son (their son, their child, their baby) was born, she had retreated into herself.

Of course their son chased her, raged at her, destroyed her. Mothers hating their children is meant to be post-natal depression, but does that count if the child is goading her, forcing her to hate?

She has been gone for a while now....

"Do you know how much you're paying to be there?"

Of course she knew, looking at her shoes. They were pretty shoes - very nice ones. She was glad she'd worn them. Something good to look at, a pattern to lose herself in as she tried to drown out the sound of her parents raging at her.

About university, this time, but really it could be anything. Insert subject here, and they would rant.

Lots of spirals on these shoes. Lots of colours, too -

Oh. They were looking at her. Expecting a response.

"Yes."

It seemed to be the...

'It's the largest ship I've ever seen.'

"It's the only ship you've ever seen."

"This is why I don't watch movies with you."

"Oh, look at her, look at her pandering to the camera - "

"She's an actress, it's her job."

'This is the beginning of such an adventure!'

"This is the beginning of such an awful film. Why are we watching this?"

"Because I like this film, and you're my sister, you're meant to at least try to like things that I like."

"Surely, as your sister, I am meant to pull your hair, steal your clothes, make...

"You don't like her, do you?"

"I don't have to."

He glanced at her, although kept his eyes on the road. "You have to try."

"Really, my feelings towards her don't matter, what matters is that you like her, and she likes you." Her feathers were ruffled now as she looked out of the window, most decidedly not at him. "Besides. I am trying."

"Then maybe you should try harder."

They didn't speak, the sounds of the engine the only thing keeping them from awkward silence.

"The others all like her."

"I don't have to like everyone - "

"You...

The results were in, and despite it all, she didn't want to know.

She didn't want to be told. She didn't want anyone else to know. She'd fought for these tests, fought to receive the results, and now they were in her hands...

"You're not going to open them, are you?"

He had known all along that she wouldn't do it - she realised it now. He knew her far too well. She placed the envelope delicately onto the table, and took his hands instead.

"I'm not ready to know, not yet. I've had so long getting used to the...

Somewhere across the field, there were worlds unexplored, lives never lived. Somewhere over that field there was a dream, there was a magical land in which -

She knew she romanticising it. She knew that fairy tales were just that, she knew that living happily ever after was not a reality. She knew that across the field there was little more than...more fields.

But they were unexplored fields, they were new fields, and the unknown was better than this. This sepia-toned world, this dull, boring land that held no adventure, no prospects, no hope.

Across the field there was another...

She didn't look at him.

"So that's my answer, is it?" He stared at her, hoping, praying for - well, anything. Any kind of response. A show of emotion.

She didn't look at him.

"Fine. If - if that's how it is, if that's - fine." He wanted the weight to lift from his shoulders, now that he knew the truth, he wanted something to happen, some kind of change - he wanted to feel something.

There was nothing. He was numb. He wasn't even angry, he just felt cold.

"So I'll be going then."

Her back was to him...

One rainy street was much like another, it turned out. It didn't matter where in the world you were, whether it was city or town - it was the same.

People acted the same. They hustled and bustled, tugging coats around them, hoping that collars could be turned up and their necks could be saved from uncomfortable raindrops. Some - prepared ones - had umbrellas, using them as a more sophisticated method (supposedly). They wore smug smirks - until they bumped into one another.

Nobody had perfected walking down a street of multiple umbrellas.

They all rushed, eager to escape...

"It's meant to get better."

He looked at the empty glass in front of him, studied the bottom, as if it was going to promise him that it would get better.

It didn't. It also didn't refill itself.

"It will."

He glanced up - of course, he could, at least, rely on his best friend.

Well. One of them. Since the other one had -

That glass was still empty. That could cause a problem.

"She's still gone."

"That isn't going to change."

This paticular best friend may prove to be useless - oh, no, wait, he was hailing the...