She walks slowly, unsteadily, makes baby steps. Faint shapes take life around her. The tree under which coffees were shared and drunk, the stairs echoing with the youthful laughter, every shape tugs at the heartstrings, every object makes the mind travel to the past with a speed unimaginable. Past - it was a time for the young. A time of joy hitherto unknown. A time of incredible power, a time of independence, a time when they thought they could change the world. A time when tender hearts were carelessly and cruelly treated.
And then comes the anger. At the unrelenting time. At the helplessness. The agony of change takes over. She feels like the dog straining against the leash. The leash of reality. But the leash holds on. And brings her back slowly. The swirling mist settles about. Now she sees the path ahead. She turns back to see that the memories have subsided - from huge misty monsters they have become bittersweet elvish creatures.
Tiny hands grab hold of hers and lead her forward. And she walks the uncertain path, where more memories await to be made.
