Down Went Ella

3: How Life Is

I walk through these familiar streets like everything is normal, like I'm not an invisible entity. People with familiar faces strode by, of course slinking around me in a stealthy way. They don't even notice what they're doing when they cut around me or lean the other way. I repulse people now, I hate it.

"It's sad, I miss her and I barely knew her. How could somebody murder Ella in the middle of the night and get away with it! She was friendly and never teased like most girls at school, she was a nice girl." I over heard Amy's lovely voice, I always thought she had a great singing talent.

I turn around to check behind me and sure enough there she was with Sidney Crodford walking with linked arms and brisk steps. Like the others they walk around me, I want to scream that I'm not a leper or something that would get stuck on the bottom of your shoe, that I was a being still.

I trail behind like a ghost, well isn't that just the epitome of irony.

"Yeah she really was sweet. I only talked to her in art class but she was really good at what she did, even helped me on some of my own pieces."

A small crooked smile wiggled past my frown and my chest sang, they liked my work. They could say they hate me as long as they thought my art was a beautiful story. It was personal - my work- and I portrayed myself in ever piece, it was my release. Just to hear that someone admired that part of me made something glow inside of me.

Amy ducked in to whisper into Sidney's ear and I rushed to catch up and hear since I was still caught up in a daze of pride and stopped trailing along.

"Who do you think did it? I can't imagine anyone in this town doing such a horrible thing like that, especially to her." I frown at that, what did she mean by her, like why would he pick me of all people.

"I don't get it either." And that was that. They went silent and kept walking toward the movie theater like all was normal and I just stood there, watching them sashay away with hurried steps.

With a heaving sigh I turn away down to Alicaster street to one of my favorite art shops. And when I arrive I can't help but admire the cutesy market place, it had a slab of wood above the entrance that read Miley's Little Shop. The wooden decor fit against the navy blue paint that covered it's faces. The door even had a tinny bell that chimes with entry.

I take in a small breath - like I could anyways - and strode inside, the bell jingling a soft chime. "Hello?" Miley's voice cracks from somewhere down an aisle.

It's good to hear her voice.

And soon enough a small figure emerges from behind a cherry wood easel. Her red hair stands out in the warm lighting and I can see the greens of her doe like eyes from here.

"Is anyone there?" Again her voice cracks a bit, rougher than her usual sing song voice.

I look down for a second. "I'm here Miley Mouse."

Then Miley comes further out from her little hiding place to the front counter, mumbling as she goes about placing things on the shelves of creative pens and paints on her way.

Man I've missed her. She always was my best friend even if she was twenty four and I was on my last year of being a teenager. I take hesitant steps to follow her around and I still somewhat tower over her 5'1" height. See why I call her mouse?

She always has been a petit thing, her waist the length of a hand practically with a slender form. Her hair pin straight and the color of strawberries and cream which made her forest green cat eyes pop against her porcelain skin.

I was only 5'7" but I always felt like I was a sky scraper beside her smallness. But we were a good pair, her being cute and out going, while I on the other hand rather spend my days cooped up in my studio or the shop, maybe even at the beach or lake where I could create a copy image on page. We were a perfect two, painting and drawing along side by side. We listened to the same music and she honestly got me out of my shell, even set me up with a friend of hers once.