Amurehna

A collection of fragments that felt connected, but I can't recall how.

Grief
I am in a mall, it has a natural light cast to it, there are a lot of windows. The walls and floor are a pale purple high gloss tile. Across from me is a man. He looks like my boyfriend, but he isn't. He hands me a small stack of pictures, they are hard, about the size of gift cards. The top one is of me and someone I have lost. A sharp spike of grief lances through my chest and I suddenly feel like crying. I hand him the pictures.
"You should have those back."
"Right." He seems so indifferent but takes them from me anyway. He gets up and leaves. I think how inconsiderate that was, then make an excuse for him. Maybe he didn't know. That was impossible. Everyone here knew. I look around, not sure what to do with myself now. A woman who looks like the actress who plays Julia on Under the Dome comes to find me.
The next thing I know we are in a store and she is trying to help me withdraw money, by going to one of the registers and swiping my card. It requires a passcode. An employee walks by and asks her what she's doing. She lies and says she can't get her card to work. The employee tells her to leave. She gives me an apologetic look and comes over to give me my card. I keep getting hostile looks from employees. They know who I am and I know I won't be able to stay here long. I'm bad luck.
"I knew it wouldn't work."
"It was worth a try though." She says.

I am following the mall manager and another man. He explains that a place has been designed specifically for me on the top floor. After the accident, he knows I am wary of magic, so there are wards at all cross joints to keep them from being destroyed by magic. We approach a white tower in the middle of the courtyard. The inside is bright white stone, there's a stairway spiraling following the curve of the wall. He's still talking, but I'm not really listening. What does it matter? They call it an accident, but most people still blame me for the event that killed my husband and several others. I see myself from behind, I am Saja, my long black hair curling to my waist. I have a white headband, wearing a white dress with a black floral print on it, and sandals. The stair narrows to a shelf.
This seriously concerns me. I lagged behind so I didn't get to see how the others crossed it. I frown. There's is a hand hold, a five foot gap, and another narrow shelf with a hand hold above it.
I reach up and hold on to the grip but can't seem to move like I need to.
"Don't think about it." The mall manager says. I know he's right.
I step back, looking at his outstretched hand. This feels like punishment somehow. I reach up, the hold is almost beyond my reach. I have to stand on my tip-toes to really wrap my hand 'round it. Then I swing and throw my arm out. He catches my wrist and pulls me across.
"Sorry about the gap. It's the only way we can protect the upper level, it's why there are no elevators."
He doesn't sound sorry.
"You could build a ladder." I suggest.
"No, that wouldn't work. Too obvious."
"No, it could be hidden." I start to explain what I'm imagining, an elaborate black lattice-working that surrounds the interior of the tower, only one section will be ladder. Then I realize he doesn't care and I stop talking. I feel pathetic.

Bookstore
I often visit this bookstore in my dreams. It is always busy, and there are three floors, and different tiers within for the various genres. It is wonderful. I wish it actually existed.

Bastard
I'm beside a pool at dusk. There are strangers everywhere. Lea Michelle is puzzling out why her father has never liked her. She tells me she found out about a man her mother had been with just before she met father. She seems distraught.
"I have an idea...but I don't want to offend you." I say.
"What, tell me! I promise not to get offended."
"Well...um..." I look at her thinking that maybe the man her mother married is actually not her father, that the first man is. "Maybe you're a bastard."
For a second she looks shocked. Then she realizes I'm probably right.

Haley Joel Osment Clone
I'm walking beside a young girl. I keep looking at her, because she looks familiar. I start to tell her so but she stops me with a glare.
"Don't you dare say it."
I decide, instead, to tell her what differences there are. She does look fantastically like the kid from Sixth Sense, the same eye shape and skin tone, hair color, eye color. But she is more fine boned, with a longer nose. I can't get her to like me though. She feels cruel and angry.