The Girl in the Green Coat

You’d never believe me if I told you my age, but I don’t lie. I stopped lying on a warm

summer’s night nearly four thousand years ago.

I remember my father, telling me of a world just beneath ours where the stars are fading

and the people die off like flies. I never wanted to believe him. I remember my mother,

singing of the fleeting passions of the “humans”. I didn’t know then that my people were

wrong- at least about some.

It was my one hundred and ninety eighth year in that world that I met her. When we reach

maturity, we are put into their lower world to teach us why our laws are so necessary. It is

only for a very short period of time, two hundred years, but I was so weary of seeing the

endless cycle of war and depression. Coming home early would bring dishonor to you and

your entire family, but for the first time, I was considering it.

I wanted to be back in my father’s hall, listening as he gave great speeches about philosophy

and science. I wanted to return to the grand lectures where I did nothing but listen to the

stories of the elders, where I never had to worry about anything besides trying not to seem

so incredibly young.

I remember the exact moment I first saw her. The narrow street in the French town where I

had ended up was filled with people rushing to work, to school, to a life that was shorter

than a festival in my world. Everyone was wearing black, or brown, or grey, or some other

color that could never compare to my mother’s robes.

Except her. She was wearing a coat, in the middle of summer. And not just any coat. It was a

deep, vibrant, forest green. It was nearly the same color as my father’s eyes.

As if she felt my eyes on her, she turned around and smiled a smile that would put even the

stars in the skies at home to shame. I didn’t know what the feeling in my gut was. It felt

like falling.

I learned her name from my landlady- Azalea. The meaning, withering flower, didn’t hold

relevance until I actually knew her.

It was at the