A dream? (DeAndrea Farries)

It’s raining, and I am in the middle of it. My clothes are soaked, and my hair is sticking uncomfortably to my forehead. I stare down at my reflection in the pools of water, and the image makes me frown. I look like some sort of bum. My clothes are heavy with water, and they hang awkwardly off my frame. My baggy pants would fall down to my ankles, if I wasn’t holding them up. I should have put a belt on this morning. “Hey, hey! Boss!” I had dazed off and didn’t notice that someone was calling me until I bumped into a body. They hit the ground and I glanced down. “Oh, hey there Brice.” Brice is a scrawny little kid, who looks a lot younger than he already is. And as clumsy as he is naïve. I didn’t bump into him that hard, but he’s a featherweight. I’m surprised that a gust of wind didn’t blow him away. The boy is just as soaked as I am, though his smile counters my frown. “B-Boss-“ “Stop calling me that, kid. I have a name.” “Sorry…um, Elliot. I’ve been looking for you all day! The crew’s been wondering where you went off to last night.” He gets to his feet and tries to dust off his pants. I guess he forgot the fact that mud was wet. Instead he smears the mud making a much larger mess. He eventually gives up and I shake my head. “Go tell ‘em that I just wanted some alone time. I needed to breathe. I can’t be around you guys every fucking second of the day, kid.” Brice nodded, his hair getting in his face as he does so. “Yes ma’am... er, Elliot.” I sigh and begin to walk again, passing him. I wave back to him lazily. “Tell ‘em to stop sending you around like an errand boy. Communicators exists, they should use one.” … The rain finally calms down, and so does the hustle and bustle of the people. I make it to the other side of town, just as things began to clear up. As I walk I spot a small café and, deciding that it was best to find some shelter, headed inside. The place is small, and cramped. And it’s obvious that I wasn’t the only person who had this idea. I push past people, and awkwardly bump into furniture, until I find an empty table. Once seated my shoulders slump, I exhale audibly, and I relax. “This is better than nothing.” I close my eyes, for what seems like a second before I hear voices. They are close, and I realize that they are directed at me. “Is she asleep,” this person’s voice is soft and low. They’re probably whispering. “Looks like it,” this voice is different. Their tone has a husky edge to it, yet it sounds even. I open my eyes and sit up quickly. My vision is blurry at first, but it clears as I look up from the table. How long was I asleep? “Oh, we were too loud.” Two women stand before me. Though they aren’t much taller, It feels like they are looming over me. They are both peculiar looking people who seem out of place, while at the same time belonging. They are dressed in the same dull colors that populate the city, but the color looks as if it is more of an obligation. The tallest is thin and her limbs are a bit long and lanky, yet still athletic. I can only tell that she’s female from the soft features of her face. Her hair is styled short, and the color of sand. And her eyes are the gray of the clouds outside. Her clothing compliments her figure while at the same time disguises it. The other woman is small, yet is shapelier. She has more weight on her than her companion, but not much. Her hair is also short, and styled in a pixie cut. It is white, and I assume that it’s been dyed. She is dressed more feminine with a shirt that exposes her shoulders and has loose sleeves. The shirt is tucked into a skirt that hugs the curves of her thighs and stops above her knees- “Can we sit here?” How long had I’d been staring at them. How long have I been staring at them?