Leah wasn’t used to cities. Her eyes and ears and mind were stuffed with people. Inside the bus station a man discussed his newspaper with an invisible friend and a woman repeated to her (visible) husband, “So the average on the quiz is eighty and you got forty-six. I mean, dear, even for you...”. Outside a man chased a hat which rolled away on its shiny stiff brim. A woman with a red head-scarf walked in the other direction, mahogany-skinned children jostling around her knees. Her face was set, weary, but her hands moved constantly, grasping the arm of a girl on the verge of wandering off, caressing the head of a crying boy, resting briefly on the dusky back of the creature that slipped between them, quieting the boy and arresting the girl by its presence although they weren’t looking at it.
Leah didn’t look at it either until the family had passed. Then it stuck in her awareness. She shut her eyes, holding its image: arched silver-black neck, swirling shadow of mane and tail, liquid dark eye...Had she really seen the horn?
Not that she could ask anyone. They gabbled away in their strange language while people appeared and disappeared and strange creatures slinked between them and the sunlight pulsed with strange colors, and why couldn't she get that song out of her head?
No, Leah wasn't a good traveler. Her first day here, after a breakfast of coffee and a couple of brownies, and Amsterdam was turning out to be the strangest place she'd ever been.
Opening: Joanna Hoyt.....Continuation: Anon.