Death has taken away everything she loved and left her behind. She was the girl death left behind. Emily would often wondered, what would it be like to be someone else. What if she were born in someone else's place, live the life designed for them. Would she have done better in life? Would she have made all the right choices necessary? Would she be happier? Live more?
There was an old man by the cobbler shop, who always seem to be waiting for something. Or someone. She'd rather not know. Knowing is burden. Instead she found herself thinking, what would it be like to be that old man. Surely waiting freezes time, like the rivers are during winter - all solid and quiet. The act of waiting alone is poignant, almost beautiful in her mind. It wouldn't hurt to wait, Emily thought. It wouldn't hurt to be him.
And then there was the silly stuck-up princess, whose grandfather owns half of the town's land. Always with her petty friends, red heeled shoes and white-flowered dress. Whenever she walks among the crowds, there seem to be a sweet, almost rosy scent that she left behind; the epitome of wealth - for no kids her age would wear a perfume as expensive that would linger for hours. Emily wondered what kind of mother she would have, who harbors great love for her daughter, that would not allow even a speck of dust to touch her daughter. She could live like that. She probably could love the mother more than the snobbish princess ever could. It was a life she could get used to, if given the chance.
And finally there was the stray cat down the alley. Kids adore this dirty old rag. In spite of his haggard appearance, the cat really knows how to purr, Emily noticed. And those big blue eyes were a big help too. The town's people would rush down to the cat and give whatever food they have in hands. Emily had to admit, even when the cat was one of the homeless, he definitely was welcomed almost everywhere. Funny though, no one was genuine enough to adopt him as the family's pet. She figured by now that it was a human thing - to make themselves feel good without overdoing it. Still, if being a cat, particularly that cat, means free meal, then that wouldn't be so bad after all, thought Emily. Better than having to clean the black back of pots for a mere quarter, or sometimes for a pence.
But today Emily found someone new. Someone who probably has been around for most of her life, but for some unknown reason, has never crossed her path. She had a basket of daisies in her hand - Emily's favourite. There seems to be a sun surrounding her being, radiating her light to others as she greet them. She was what you could only find in fairytale, a character walked out of a page in a slow motion. A painting, no - a portrait of a mother. Emily watcher her delicate hands, imagining them knitting a peach-coloured scarf for her beloved daughter. She would take her daughter for a walk in the park during autumn and put daisies in her hair. My hair, Emily thought.
Flashes of her own mother in reality suddenly came to mind - drunken, slurred and all messed up in her kitchen. No husband, only a daughter to put all the blame on. A daughter to be appointed as the breadwinner. Emily quickly retraced her mind. Don't go there, she silently begged herself. It was the life she loathed, the reality she questioned everyday. As she was about to turn around and head back to the lowly shelter she called home, something caught her eyes. The motherly figure with the basket of daisies bent down and put one of her daisies on a girl's hair. She hugged the girl and no doubt in Emily's mind that it was her daughter. The girl flashed a smug smile so familiar it crushed Emily's heart. The girl was now walking next to the mother, hand in hand, with her red heeled shoes echoing and white-flowered dress blowing, leaving behind a scent of rose.
At that time, Emily wished she was that girl, more than ever. Emily wished she was anyone else but herself.
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