“This way.” Her voice echoed slightly, bouncing off of the nothingness surrounding them. “You’ll see it soon.”
She reached out to take the other’s hand. They found it reassuring, she’d learned.
“You’ll be okay.” They usually found that reassuring too, even though she really wasn’t sure what it meant. She tugged gently, and he followed her dumbly. A man, this time. Tall, but hunched from the busy busy days that made up his time. His eyes were hooded, and he hadn’t looked up once that day. He hadn’t seen the sun.
“You have places to be. We’re going to them.” She came to a stop. “Do you see it?”
He took a step forward then realized his hand was still gripping hers, much as a child clings to a stuffed bear. “Aren’t you coming?”
She shook her head. The light, the path, the door, the golden voices spilling from the stars above, inviting, calling to be joined— “I don’t see it,” she said. “It’s there for you.”
She eased her hand away. “Go on.”
He did. She didn’t know where. All she knew was that she was alone again, on the wrong side of whatever the passersbys saw. As always.
She turned to walk back and stepped right into a wall. She stumbled back.
“You’ve been here awhile.”
“You haven’t.” She stepped towards the stranger cautiously. “Why didn’t I hear you come over?” She always had before, with every person who came through. They were loud, always, she could hear them from hours away. It was enough time to figure out which way they were headed so she could lead them there.
One day she’d follow them.
The newcomer smiled. “I don’t need a guide here.” She felt a hand take her own and for the first time she understood the hundreds she’d done the same for. “Can you see it?”
“Then go on. You’ve been waiting long enough.”
So she did. And the other stayed. She looked back once, as she left. She was the first to do so, and in all the years that followed, she was the only one who ever did.