I was a dog, another species unable to appreciate her beauty. Except I wasn’t. I was as human as she appeared to be.
Of the three of us, her, me, and the marble wall, only the wall responded to her prescense. It swirled and splashed with pastel illustrations of feathers, fronds, and joyous bongols. These happy illustrations radiated from the rose-like flower blooming between her pale breasts. I wasn’t sure if she caused this or if the wall volunteered. Many of the sinuous petals looked to have smiling faces.
Except for her hands, which she tucked modestly between her legs, a crisp angle defined the intersection of her body and the plane of the wall. Her hands though, more her fingers…fingertips really, extended vaguely into a shadow beyond the surface of the wall’s reality. In that deeper world she might have perched on the cusp of a tall tower like a gargoyle or sat on the prow of a fantastic sailing ship. She wore short brown hair.
The body and face of a maiden with the eyes of a matron.
“I am asking you a question,” the maiden said.
She asked me a question? Or will ask? “Huh?”
“I will be asking you a question. You may choose to answer yes or no,” the matron clarified.
“But in the end I’ll be doing whatever you wish of me?”
“Of course,” answered the heart of a crone.