I own nothing, except Felicia and Tacey and Ole Solomon. Well, I own everything except for Daine and Numair and anything you might otherwise recognize from Tamora Pierce's books.

Since I haven't updated in a while, I forget if any of you guys had questions or needed something clarified or suchlike, so just ask again . . . umm, yeah, that's all.

Daine slid behind the counter as the customer walked up to her. The sun was behind him and shadow fell over his face. He seems familiar, do I know him? She wondered.

"Um, hello," the man spoke in a slightly hesitant baritone, pleasant to listen to.

A beam of light wiggled out from a cloud, falling neatly across his face. Daine took a step back. He was very familiar. She smiled cautiously, not wanting to appear unfriendly to a person she already knew. "Numair, hello. I hadn't expected to see you again."

Numair's shoulders relaxed as he smiled. "Daine, what a wonderful surprise. I had no idea you worked here."

"Oh, I just got the job today. Do you come here often? Felicia didn't mention you."

"No, this is my first time coming to the café. Is there anything you would recommend?"

"Most people here just get the specials of the day. I haven't tried anything yet, but if I was going to, I'd probably go for the Chocolate Sin Torte – that'd be flourless chocolate cake flavored with spices and nuts – and the Cinnamon-cocoa. We're just passing Busy, so if you want that, you're gonna have to wait for Felicia to bake it. Nothing takes too long, maybe a half-hour."

"That's perfectly fine. I'll go sit and wait." Numair thought of the Laundromat with a wry grin. He wondered whether the clerk would be delighted or furious if he didn't show up until closing time. And of course, there was the journal. He knew he shouldn't read it, but it looked sentimentally valuable. Perhaps by reading it he could discover the writer. He shook his head nearly imperceptibly. No matter what he thought, he could never truly justify this act of invasion of privacy to himself. Lord knew he had his own secrets. But I mustn't think of that. I swore I would never remember that . . . He walked to the back of the room and sat in a corner near a window, far from any other patron.

Tacey's eyes followed the tall silhouette since he entered the café. He seemed familiar. He sat down with the same grace as . . . someone she had known well. Oh g0d, why couldn't she find the name? She knew it was important, but why? Why?

"Felicia!" Daine called as she parted the swinging doors to the kitchen. "Felicia, new customer!"

Felicia looked up from the floury counter, hands white. Working in such a hot room made her closed-mouthed.

Daine felt self-conscious looking into Felicia's eyes. They were a shocking shade of gold-speckled leaf-green, and gave Daine the same feeling of wonder and awe as when she looked at a moss-covered tree, hunched with age. She gulped and fiddled with her hands. "Um, yeah, and he, uh, he would like the, uh, cocoa with cinnamon and the devil chocolate tart." Wincing, Daine realized how she stumbled over the words and frantically searched for the items Numair had ordered.

Felicia stared, the corners of her mouth turning down ever so slightly. Then her eyes sparkled with realization, and she tried not to smile. "He, you say? Honey, just who is 'he'?"

"Oh. No, it's just this guy I met on the train over here. Nothing, nothing at all." She tried to relax.

"Mm-hm baby, I believe you. And did you mean the Chocolate Sin Torte and the Cinnamon-cocoa by any chance?"

Daine smiled in relief. "Yes, yes of course. Whew, is it hot in here? I think I'll open a window."

"Sure sweetie. Listen, you wanna go for a walk? I don't need you right now."

Daine hesitated. It was very tempting, but how would it look to take time off on her first day?

"Honey? Why don't you go?"

Daine didn't need to be told twice. She left out through the back.

Once outside, she leaned against the stucco wall and gasped for air. She tapped her head back against the wall, letting gentle pain fill her instead of . . . that other thing, whatever it was, that make her nerves hum the way they were. She slipped out of her shoes and ran with long loping strides of someone with much practice.

Numair set the book on the table. He stared at, swarthy hands softly cupping the sides. The cover was an olive green fabric, with cream highlights when the sun hit it just the right way. Small rose-pink buds sewn on it in a random pattern, little more than large knots marring the cloth. There was a border of cream, dancing around two centimeters from the edge, however, the flower pattern continued across the spine and back cover. He lifted the cover, stiff binding cracking, just the way being crushed under clothes at the bottom of a duffel bag would make it. On the inside cover was spidery writing. "Sunshine, for your thoughts and dreams and memories of your teen years. I promise you I'll visit again soon. Never ever forget I love you." Numair closed the book. Reading those few words felt like stealing someone's happiness. It was completely wrong.

Daine sprinted until each breath was an icy wind trailing down her throat. She slowed and looked around at her surrounding. To her left was a park. She strolled inside. The sounds of children screaming met her ears. She walked around, over a bridge and though a tall stone entrance.

It was a theatre, with pine trees, and grass for chairs. The stage was stone with round towers on either side. Daine lay down on the gentle incline, her hair fanning out behind her. She closed her eyes against the warm sunlight, and soon was asleep.

Felicia hummed to herself as she took the chocolate sin torte out of the oven. It had been a long time since she had had and company in this café; even a place as small as this one felt infinitely huge with no one else in it.

"Daddy!" Daine stirred gently in her sleep. The shriek came again. "Daddy! There's a dead girl on the grass!" Daine shot up and wondered where she was. Glancing around, she slowly recalled what happened earlier that day. To judge by the cool air and watery sunlight, it was close to the evening. She tried to remember the way back to the café as a tiny girl crept over and sat next to her, staring. With another shriek, this time of joy, she was swept into the air by her father. Daine jumped out of the way of the swinging child.

"Sorry about that," the man apologized. "Chloe hasn't yet learned the difference between death and sleeping." A shadow crossed over his face, but passed quickly.

"It's fine. Really. I needed to wake up." She paused, and cursed her shyness. after a few moments, just as the man was about to turn away, a suddenly exhausted child in his arms, she blurted out, "Do you know how to get to the Sunshine Café from here?"

"Yeah. We're headed in that direction ourselves. It a half hour walk and then a bus ride." He shifted Chloe and started walking. Daine followed, watching Chloe's blond curls spill on his shoulder. Her blue eyes were only partly closed, and Daine felt as if the child was not really asleep, as if she was carefully scrutinizing Daine with a practiced, but beautifully innocent eye.

I was trying to think of the right way to describe the journal, but all I could imagine was this. I hope I didn't kill anyone's images. Obviously, think of the journal any way you want.

And yes, I realize how messy this is. Hopefully I'll be back on track for the next chapter. Thanks for putting up with me!