“Selling fruit!” Said in a jovial voice. If you were to hear her, you would have no doubt that it was genuine happiness; like someone living out their dream. “I’ve got apples here! Red, juicy apples! Oranges, just as good as apples, in some opinions; pineapples, too!

The sun was blazing, making it sweltering, but the wind came off of the beach, to her stall, blowing away the stuffy air. She had been there all day and did sweat a lot. Her voice rang to the crowd, though not many seemed interested.

She said, smiling. “Apples! I grew these myself!” She pointed, as if there were someone looking--even more incredible-- it seemed that she had pointed towards a grocery store. “I grow these in my fields.” Now, with both indexes, one towards the store, the other towards her products.

Of course, she did not mean the store; her garden was just in that direction.

Catching onto her temper, and seeing where she had pointed--feeling silly--she sat on the stool; waiting on the crowd to rinse. No one would buy food from such a strange person. She rested her chin on both arms --laying on them--looking as bored as possible.

If it was just people-watching? She could do it all day (though she did want to make a sale); in fact, she had done it for a long, long, long time.

Things had changed within the last century. It hadn’t been too quickly, no. It started small, they wore a little less, and then less, and even littler; now different cloth--of the same length--represented appropriate and inappropriate.

Just for instance. The beach was in view, and in view most of the men and women, that walked-by, were in their underwear. Humans had lost their inhibitions. They would call them bathing suits; they were somehow distinctly different from their underclothes.

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She found it strange.

‘So many live together now. Most of us had to pair up with them, just to live.’

She yawned. Taking out a phone, one that he had bought for her, and seeing their faces together; he was handsome enough, she guessed. But being with a human felt wrong; worse that she had saw herself smiling in the photo.

She held it back into her pocket. The crowd had rinsed with the flow of foot traffic, just as she drew-up, preparing to yell, she saw the little girl.

A little girl in red. The crowd walked around her, like snippets, how many people would just walked-by. For some reason, the little blonde was alone.

“Hey, you’, she said, loudly, “little girl in the dress!” The little girl did look around, pointing to herself, after she saw no one else looking. Like no one else had even heard, the crowd kept walking.

She ran towards the older blonde lady, who wore a blue cap, a bundle of her own blonde hair hung from beneath it, touching her sweaty face.

The little girl was pale up close, her hair was caught up into ponytails, her dress was beautiful rosy red, over white, like she had just left a special occasion.

She ran nearly the entire way before stopping, and, simply staring. The crowd had stepped around her, though the streets were jammed.

“Come on.”, the fruit lady, said. Her smile was odd, because, some of her teeth were long, and sharp, and her eyes--though did they smile too--were bluer than they had been, and the little girl did come over. She did it with rigid steps, that sent a clap, clap, clap as she came closer. Her shoes were cute and shiny.

The lady’s smile came again--with normally sized teeth, this time. “Hey there. Don’t be afraid,” the girl stepped around the stand, surprisingly catching her below the waist, “I won’t bite you.”  

She took her hand (without asking). “Stan! Tell your boss I am going home, now! And you better take care of my melons!” the crowd had heard that one, several of them looking her way; she ignored it and started to leave.

A young man in shades, stuck his head out of the store, across the road, and nodded, not blushing in the lease.

“Hey little thing. Have you ever met a vampire? You know before you met me? We are going to have so much fun! When we get home, that is. Wait till you meet Mitchel…”

The little lady had broken whatever spell she had been under, and yanked repeatedly away from the lady’s grip; but she was strong. The little girl had no choice but to follow, the only freedom she had was to cover the ear closest to woman’s chatter. The crowd allowed them-- the fruit lady and the little thing-- to leave. There was trouble to begin.