The Elephant

Long dark hair, big weary eyes, sun-soaked skin. She comes here often, sits on the bench facing us, sometimes to read but mostly to stare, to stare at us, to stare at nothing. She doesn't offer us anything like the other kids. Just her presence. 

....
Sometimes I think she is trying to tell me something, but she wouldn't say a word. I remember her as a kid, with her parents, with schoolmates, with her brother, she would come visit, always with the same joyless look, the same awkward movements, always a little lost, always a little out of it.

....
I was young and small back then. I've grown ten times bigger. She hasn't changed much. It is only her eyes that reveal the story of her passing youth, changing like the sky. Not too many moons ago, her eyes were bright, wide with hope, a pool of dreams. Today dark circles line them like grey clouds heavy with rain. I wonder why.

 ....
She sits and stares, long after all the others have moved on. The more I look at her, the heavier I felt. She gets up to approach me. My heart skips. Will she finally tell? She leans in and whispers ---

....
"Elephant Juice." 

....
"Read my lips. Elephant Juice." ....

....
"Don't forget me", she says.

....
 That was the last time I saw her.


*elephant juice - mouth these words in the mirror and you will figure it out.