Ah, yes. Your work jeans and something kind of frilly. Woman's lib be damned, you still feel a need to look pretty once in a while. Look female, even if you don't want to look sexy.
The golden sun is shining down on your ebony hair. You can feel your pale skin burning in the light, but you don't really care. Your sisters call you careless in such a wound-up world, but you hate the feel of sunscreen on your skin. Too greasy, too nasty.
You slip off your shoes, crumple the grass between your toes, lay back against the ground, gripping the grass, smelling the fresh green of it, the eternal smell of summer...fresh, broken grass. Your hair spills back. This is the careless you, the free you...the you who doesn't have to pretend for socioty's sake. You without inhibitions...or cravings.
Just...you.
You look out over the grass and see a deer bounding across the feild, and realize you wish you could be like that. Fleet. Free.
But maybe...not exactly like that.
You close your eyes and soak in the sun.
Then the sun is blocked from your eyes...a shadow...but of what? You open your eyes and see a child. A small girl, maybe six, in a lacy white Sunday-Morning style dress. She's nursing one finger and looking at you. She smiles shyly...or is that slyly? Then she glances behind herself. You follow her eyes and see two strangers...a man, a woman. Both look like summer thunderheads gliding slowly over the ground.
Then they see you, and smiles spread across their face, the speed of molasses fast by comparison. And there is something about it. Something that reminds you of actors in a bad soap-opera. Something like actors.
Something you don't trust.
But this might be thier daughter...and they are defenately coming for you and her. What do you do?