by Colleen Marlow

They were traveling. Or they had arrived, they were there. They weren't traveling anymore.

They were sitting, on a couch, where she didn't want to be, with a person she maybe wanted to know. But she was too tired to be engaged, she'd let them catch up.

She was cold and sleepy. She curled up to stay warm.

Her coat was beside her.

Black and silky, soft and fake-furry, she disappeared beneath it.

It was like that game you play with babies.

"Where's Colleen?"

"There she is!"

Only she wouldn't come out, and they couldn't find her.