Long brown hair, half held up, bottom part with a slight wave. Bangs cut straight across her forehead. Dress with puffy sleeves.
Looking up at me, big brown eyes.
Confused. Unsure.
Scared.
Hello little girl.
This has nothing to do with you.
You are a miracle of stardust.
Tears.
I hold out my hand.
She cowers.
The protector is gone.
Relief.
Fear.
Someone will see me.
This has nothing to do with you.
I am here.
I am stardust.
She doesn’t move. Crouches below me, starting up with those big eyes.
No sound.
No movement.
Just the big, innocent, wondering eyes.
What do you need?
She crouches lower, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Invisible.
What do you need?
To disappear.
No.
Safety.
What do you fear?
The protector.
Being irrelevant.
To be seen. Heard. Loved.
I see the protector much more clearly than the little girl cowering in the midst of the gray nothingness that inhabits my soul.
The protector has shown himself to me as long as I can remember.
The little girl, she stays hidden. Frightened that someone might actually see her And that no one might ever really see her.