Just Peachy

1
Let them stare, she thought to herself.

She could feel the burn down her spine everywhere she turned. There would be skeptical looks from behind, people leaning into each others' ears pretending they're not trying to get a glimpse of this oddity.
But she didn't care. She couldn't hear them and she surely didn't want to.

All she needed was her headphones, her favourite playlist, and her secret sanctuary.

2
That morning was strangely sunny, in fact, a little too pleasant for her liking. The kind of weather where girls of her age would slip into their lovely little sundresses habitually and sit in the park. They would tell each other about all the cute boys who passed their hallways yesterday, who they could remember their last names as well as their first.

Anna, 15, still in her silk black night gown, still groggy from waking up halfway through a dream (and mind you, it was a nice one). She shifted from her usual routine, turning into the porch - instead of the kitchen like she usually would - after trailing down the marble stairs. She wouldn't want to wake every other person sound asleep in the house. They might have forgotten what day it was, but she didn't. And she never would.

Her sight diverged from the morning sun to the left side of the porch. Slipping through the array of porcelain and plants her mother had warned not to temper with, she reached the end of the garden and found what she was looking for. It was a shape of a heart made out of seashells, but soil had caught up in the cleaves, the white colour had turned into a pale brown. Back then she used to clean and bleach them and arranged them back patiently every once in a while, but she barely had time now.

It didn't matter, because she was here now. She smoothed the sides of her wrinkled gown and sat onto the soil, legs crossed. Buttercup died exactly three years ago, and she had buried him right there in the middle of the heart. She opened the book she brought along with her and began reading, ignoring the noises up in the bedrooms, the sound of water running from the kitchen. Buttercup. She had the softest fur, and her purrs were always so soothing. I miss you.

Anna kept on reading, she would be here for a long time, now.

3

Don't tell me how to suffer,

And don't tell me how to cry.