Webbready

Admittedly, this is a day early. This isn’t much at all, I’m afraid, but at least it’s something.

It was only the color of the hair of the mermaid figurine that prevented Mary from being completely captivated by the sight before her.

Encased in a ball of glass and covered by the shadow of a canopy, the simularcum of this mystical creature attracted the young woman, stuck forever in a pose that indicated freedom from both earth and heaven. The juxtaposition of its immobility and the fantasy it represented elicited images of the latter variety in the young woman’s head. Yet its blond hair, wavy and carried by the imagined buoyancy of the non-existent water, was too dissimilar from that of its spectator for Mary to give her heart completely to the miniature statue. A series of soft, high-pitched notes played as the figurine turned, tempting Mary with a spell of music, and bidding her to spend all day as an audience to the treasure’s endless song. But the tune could barely begin an iteration before she shook her head and blinked, clearing her faraway thoughts with a dismissive bat of her eyes.

She swung her eyes away from the mermaid and the other trinkets that stood before her. Instead, she looked into the sunlit marketplace, her mind liberated from her brief daydream. Reality clung to her like the bag that hung across her body and imparted the muscles of her right shoulder with a dull ache from its weight. She gripped her walking staff firmly with her left hand as a slight burst of wind sent sand scratching across her face. Despite this, she could not hate the sand that wormed its way into whatever opening her body provided, as the sand was merely carried by the wind. She instead hated the wind for the dryness of the air that spirited her sweat away as soon as it formed. The rush of air invaded the folds of her clothing and rubbed against her skin, depositing a few grains of sand as a keepsake.

She braced the intrusion and switched the hands she used to grab her staff. She began to walk a path her mind and body knew countless times before. With every step she passed women dressed similarly to her, and the male merchants behind their stalls selling their wares. The market was far from crowded today, though, and she felt a certain relief from the constant bumping associated with her trips there. She dared not let the open space fool her, though, as the lack of people offered less protection from thieves who had mastered the art of distraction than pickpockets that took advantage of an inattentive herd. But these dangers were at the periphery of her mind, and instead she continued on her journey, every footstep bringing with it a slight soreness that told her she was getting closer to home.