1997. Winter had come early.
Aria had never been fond of winter. Three decades later, the season still carried the darkest nights and the darkest memories. It was more four than five when the sun set. Looking out through the window from the office on the fourth floor, she could see the seven year old Aria burdened by the bag, the weight of the books tearing deeper into her shoulders than the words inside did into her head. It was dark by six, when she walked out. With the fog swallowing the streetlamps, it felt like she was under moonlight, like she was seven again and the family of three was squeezing together on the bed too small in the room too tiny, closing their eyes to the fog's faint silvery light. It was worse now, for back then, the song in her mother's voice made it all so pleasant. Now, on most nights, her mother was a mute memory. Rare were the nights when her ears remembered the voice from long ago.
Home was a two bedroom flat a fifteen minute walk away. There wasn't a night when she didn't return home wishing for a miracle. And because she knew it wasn't coming, she didn't return until she was dead tired, so the only thing to do upon returning was collapsing on the bed and letting go into the embrace of sleep. Tonight was going to be especially easy. It had been a long day. Mr Fry had made an announcement, his pitch for his running to be the local representative. The pitch was fine by itself. Relaying the roads rather than merely repairing them so they would last longer and would be a lot smoother as well. And turn the streetlamps solar powered. It was a radical approach, in line with the center's intent. Had he stopped there, it would have been fine. But he just had to take a dig at the ineffectiveness of the current representative, Mr Heeve. The hatred between the two was no secret, and the dig would have everyone talking about the hatred just as much. It was surely a deliberate attempt to dirty the fight. Aria was sure of it. But she had to be neutral, because the paper she was employed at was the most neutral. Mr Heeve was swift with the retaliation. The day quickly devolved into one of those when there was too much news and too little time to write the report. As much as she hated working late, it couldn't be helped. It was a quarter past eight when she left work.
"Momma, today was actually a good day," she whispered as she hugged her arms and walked at a steady pace. "Maybe you were right. Maybe I would have it much easier on the other side, covering those big parties. And maybe I would fit in as well. I'm quite pretty. I know, you'd say I'm stunning. But I'm more modest. Either way, I'm pretty enough for sure. But I don't think I'd be me. I'm much happier glued to the hard seat writing serious words. I think that's what I'll tell Seth. I'm happy. I think having arrived at the decision, I don't even feel hungry anymore. I'll just head home and hit the bed. Momma, it's one of those nights. I really need you."
As she stifled a sob, her ears perked up. Filling Street wasn't too far south to be quiet through the year but was far enough to be so in the winter. Tonight seemed especially so. Having realized this, she felt her heart quicken. Her feet lightened, and the fog that muffled all sound, let one pass through free. The sound of feet, of shoes, of someone else. As she slowed her feet, so did those shoes. As she paused, so did those. As she resumed, so did those. She knew there was someone out there, behind her, following her. She burst into a run, praying to be wrong. As loud as her heels were slapping onto the road, the shoes were louder. And faster.
Hadn't been three days since Seth's announcement. The paper was getting everyone in the department cellphones. Little phones, little at least when compared with the wired phones on their desks, they could carry in their purses and their pockets, phones that allowed them to make calls from anywhere. They were expensive though, the calls. So they had to be careful and very, very certain about the call they were making. The joke had everyone laughing. He asked for everyone to fill in the required details as he handed out the applications. Aria had filled in an application too. They would be getting the cellphones in a week. Just three more days, and she would be able to call for help. Seemed a small number an hour ago. Now, it felt an eternity too long.
She was almost at the crossing. She had to break off into Greer Street, and within a minute she would be at her building. She hoped her ears were wrong, for the shoes seemed just behind her. A tear slipped out as she saw Greer street within reach, but she would never make it. She felt a great force grab at her, lifting her off her feet and dragging her off the road. She knew nothing more, nor did she feel anything after that. All there was, was the yellow fog staring down at her, and the song in her mother's voice coming down from the other side.
Ho ho ho, he cried
A great too many candy he had
And a great too many tooth he lost
A few too many words slipped out
So every time he said hi
It was a ho ho ho
And every time he smiled
It was a long, long cry
The poor boy Jo
A great too many candy he had.