⚫

 It was snowing. I was sitting on my favorite bench in the park. It was freezing, the dirt buried beneath a thick coat of snow several feet deep, icicles hung from rooftops and branches and everyone who dared go out was wrapped in enough layers to provide kindling for a bonfire.

 That is, everyone except me. In fact, as I sat there on the bench with my wool hat and light gray cardigan over my thick leggings and blouse, I felt perfectly fine. So, why waste precious materials and time putting said materials on if I didn't need them anyway?

 People on the street used to gawk as they passed, but now no one ever spared me a second glance. As if I were a ghost. As if I weren't there. One would think that perhaps they couldn't see me.

 One would be right.

 I did not know why it was as it was, I could see and taste and smell. I simply could not be seen or touched. The sun had long since set and the moon shone brightly overhead. I remembered a similar night when I was young. I had made a wish. I had grown up in a town long since turned to dust, but before then... one night, with an unnaturally large full moon, I had looked up to the sky and wished. I had been very naive then. And unprepared. And raging with a small galaxy of emotions twisting and eliminating any chance of rational thought. And so, with a full and heavy heart, I had wished for the one thing I knew I could never have.

 I wished to be free. Free to do what I wished. To see the world. To live without boundaries.

 I woke up the next morning... changed. And yet not. The transition was incredibly slow.

 The first thing I lost were small things, like the ability to not feel pain or cold. Then came the loss of my mortality. That, in itself brought many problems. But I was naive, and too curious about the world to settle. I saw it all as a gift then. That is until, centuries later, I lost the ability to be seen, or touched.

 I had faded. Completely.

 Unable to be heard. Unable to die but incapable of truly living.

 One might call it bad luck, but I don't think so. For all I knew, it could have happened to anyone else... so, was it simply poor luck that I was the one to get chosen? No, I really didn't think so. Bad or good luck doesn't exist. Whatever happens will happen and life will run its course. It's just the way things are.

 I remembered all of that, as I sat there, staring up at the moon, and felt lonelier than I'd ever felt before. A small, melancholy smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I stared and stared and stared. And I kept staring, as if I could reverse it all. As if the moon could hear my grief. A clock struck in the old square, twelve times. Midnight.

 I realized I'd been crying.

 I did nothing to wipe my tears as I leaned against the back of my bench, what little people remaining in the park slowly emptied out, leaving me alone. My red hair, tousled by the breeze, was stark, like a drop of blood against the pristine white snow, covering everything. Like a blanket. Not a sound to be heard. Not a single movement to be seen except for the slowly falling snowflakes.

 The park was frozen in time. Just like me. It felt appropriate. The streetlamps were blown out by a sudden gust, leaving me and my little bubble awash in darkness.

 For the first time in centuries I felt pain. Not physical pain. No, it was much worse than that... So much deeper, as if someone had stabbed me in the gut, and kept twisting the blade-- and yet I couldn't see the wound. 

 It was everywhere, filling me up, choking me and pulling me down.

 I did nothing, for there was nothing to do.

 The moon continued to rise up above and seemed to glow brighter than ever.

⚫

 The library was packed full of people at this hour. I ran a hand along a dusty bookshelf in an old forgotten section. I loved the library, because it was the one place where I could pretend to be normal. The one place no one would pay me any heed, whether they could see me or not.

 I spotted the book I'd been looking for. Reading had been my consolation. The fictional characters my saviors. There was also the little fact that no matter how much I'd read, thousands and thousands of books, there were simply too many books for me to ever finish them all. So, yes, I took consolation in the certainty that something would outlive me. It made me feel more mortal... more vulnerable, in a way.

 I reached for the old felt book, but another hand got there before my own. That happened a lot. But, of course, they didn't know I was there. This time though, the freckled hand jerked back.

 I paused and glanced at the stranger. It was a young man, his skin was tan and his hair was light as if he spent most of his time basking under the sun. His eyes, though, were a vibrant, electric blue. He was beautiful. Not handsome. Beautiful.

 And he was staring straight at me.

 This also wasn't the first time this happened, he was looking at something behind me. Most definitely a book. I was used to people passing through me every now and then, but it was still incredibly unpleasant, so I stepped aside from the shelf.

 His eyes followed.

 My brows crashed together in bewilderment. The young man smiled. "Is everything alright?"

 I froze in place, my eyes widening in utter shock. Now the man looked confused.

 "Are-- Are you okay?" The way his eyes sparkled with concern, light curls spilling over his brow, made me feel strange... lightheaded and anxious, a sudden giddy roiling in my stomach.

 "You can..." I gulped. "You can see me?" At this his eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared beneath his hair.

 "Well, I would hope so," At my stunned expression, he clarified. "I would hope you're not just a figment of my imagination, as I am very attached to my sanity."

 My lips began pulling up at the corners. I couldn't help myself. "I'm not, don't worry."

 "Although," He continued. "A girl as pretty as you would be very hard to find outside of one's head. Perhaps you popped out of a story book? We are in a library, after all."

 I looked more closely at the stranger. No one had ever called me pretty. Well, as a girl yes, but the way he'd said it was different. I could feel it.

 I noticed he was staring too. "What is it?"

 He laughed. "You're looking at me like you're trying to decipher some puzzle."

 "Sorry," I mumbled, averting my gaze. I was so used to being invisible, I'd forgotten what it was like to be caught staring. My cheeks heated.

 "You know what? Let's start over," the young man held out a speckled hand. "I'm Kiran."

  I hesitated. "Ayla."

 Kiran grinned. "So, Ayla, what are you doing in the library?"

 Why would he ask something like that? "The same reason everyone else is, I think. To read?" 

 His face seemed to glow, his bright eyes taking on a new light. "Me too," he then glanced over at the shelf, towards the book I'd been reaching for. "You like Shakespeare?" I nodded.

 "I like everything."

 Kiran hummed thoughtfully. "I agree... But, between you and me, I usually prefer poetry."

 "Why is that?"

 "It's like... It's like a puzzle. Words and actions can mean so many things, and I like to try and find different meanings, how someone else might perceive them. It's so interesting, the way the human mind works, the way other people might grasp a scene completely differently than I, even if we both witness the exact same thing."

 "I'd never thought of that before..." I murmured. "I've never really had anyone else to compare my point of view with." 

 At that statement, his expression became puzzled once again. "Why not?"

 I opened my mouth, only to close it again. How could I explain what had happened to me? He would think I was out of my mind. "It's... It's a long story."

 "I have time."

 "No... It's a really long story."

 His eyes sparkled with interest. "Say, would you like to take a walk?" My stomach tightened.

 "All-- All right." I said, a bit breathlessly. I had to be dreaming. This couldn't be happening, could it?

⚫

 The streets were nearly deserted. If it weren't for us, the world would have looked entirely monochrome, what with the snow and dark stone buildings, cobblestone roads. Snow fell softly on our shoulders. 

To my surprise, Kiran led me to the park. I suppose he noticed my expression, because he asked. "You like the park?"

 "It's my favorite place." I glanced up at the towering trees, and the silence seeped in. "I... that's my favorite bench."

 "Really? That old thing?" I nodded.

 "It's the last thing left from the old town. I remember what it was like, before they rebuilt the city."

 Kiran's lips pressed into a tight line. "But that was over a century ago. How would you have..." He looked over at me in disbelief.

 I smiled sadly. "I told you it was a long story." This was when he'd say I was insane, and leave. Or he might just leave.

 Instead, tears trickled down his cheeks, his electric gaze shining with sorrow, and... and something else. "All that time?"

 I nodded.

 Then Kiran did something that took me by such a surprise I would probably never get over it. He slowly stepped up, until there was not a centimeter to spare between us, and wrapped his surprisingly warm arms around me. My heart stopped. The world stopped. I couldn't breathe.

 My stomach fluttered and churned. I loved it. I loved him. I decided that right then and there. And, ever so carefully, I draped my own arms around him, pulling him closer.

 And in the light of the moon, as the old clock in the square struck midnight, I brought my lips to his own.

 ⚫

 I gasped as I came to, Kiran lying beside me, the sun shining brightly overhead, covered in cold snow and shivering. I paused.

 I was shivering. I felt cold. In fact, I felt absolutely freezing. I was... I was back. Back to how I'd been before-- before the wish. 

 My lips trembled with a mixture of relief and confusion and gratitude and happiness.

 I was so, so happy.

 And hopeful. And afraid.

 I was in uncharted territory. 

 I had been held for the first time in seven centuries. And it had been utterly intoxicating.

 I was back. And I was going to live. But first, I really needed to find a coat.

⚫