LaCasati

The city, night.

I wander the streets, which are narrow, cobbled and somewhat Dickensian. The buildings are tall and lean inwards over the streets, which are dimly lit, the alleyways branching off from these are not lit at all and stretch into darkness. It's snowing, and bitterly cold.

The streets are busy and people rush past me, their faces blurred. I walk at a slower pace, reacquainting myself with the city after my absence. There are many street vendors, often at alleyway entrances. People crowd around their stalls but hardly buying anything. I notice one stall in particular, run by two little girls in shabby hooded cloaks. The smaller of the girls interests me, for her eyes glow icy blue in the darkness, she has been watching me for a while, I realise.

I weave my way through the crowd to their stall, the girl's eyes draw me in. She and her companion are selling little clay figurines. I buy several. I don't really want them. As I walk away, the smaller girl continues to stare at me, I can hear the other one thanking me as I go.