Araminta walked slowly, dragging her feet at every step. She smiled, enjoying the swishing sound on the pavement. This wasn’t how she usually walked. At school, at home, she walked with a preppy, bouncy stride, her steps matching her lilting voice, her trendy clothes, her polished personality. There, she was Minty, the cool, fun, happy, giggly person that she had always wanted to be. The person she used to observe, always ahead, always out of earshot, availiable only to listen to and to watch. But now, she was that person, the one who never had to worry about things because others took care of them for her. The person who everyone else watched, paling themselves in her glow.

She was happy; yes, she was ecstatic. But she liked, for some reason, to visit her old self; to walk down the dusty roads, late at night, and walk like she used to, talk like she used to, be who she used to be. She liked to step back, and look at the person she now was from the point of view of the person she used to be…or was still.