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About Marie

By Sara Maria Bastine

A cold Thursday afternoon. I took a sip of my kukicha, breathed in its crisp aroma. The winds pulled the sakura petals from the branches and drizzled them upon me. I could never get tired of their pink rain. Just then I heard a soft patter of heels. I turned my head slowly. And that is when I saw her for the first time.

She paced swiftly towards the bench and sat beside me. Her long amber hair brushed against my chin. I looked at her. Her perfectly pencilled eyebrows, her dimpled chin, but her lips had gone dry as though she could read my thoughts. My eyes caught the sparkling tag on her purse. 'Marie'.

I looked at her again. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes, they spoke differently, as though they were searching for answers. I longed for her to gift me a smile, maybe a twinkle? But she left as quickly as she arrived.

She was in the papers the following day. Marie was gone.

A Saturday afternoon. I gulped down the last ounce of my kukicha. I let out a long sigh, I couldn’t get Marie out of my head. I longed to hear the same patter of her heels, to get a glimpse of her face, to calm her troubled eyes, to be a part of her gentle aura. My heart couldn’t take that she was gone.

A cold Thursday afternoon. The second spring greeted me with a fresh sprinkle of Sakura petals. I gently placed my hot, beaming cup of kukicha down. Just then I heard something familiar, something from a long time ago. I felt my heart beat faster, my stomach fluttered. I turned my head slowly, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was her! It was Marie!

She wore the same outfit, the same expression. Had I gone back in time? She sat beside me. My soul was filled with just a glimpse of her face. And before long, she left as quickly as she arrived.

I wait for her every spring, just like the Sakura blossoms. There is something about her that I can’t let go. Something about Marie.

By Sara Maria Bastine

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