A Portrait of The Artist As a Young Woman

She pushed her long blonde hair aside and nervously fiddled with her rings
a small sigh escaped her lips. Startled, she blushed.
The older woman looked at her curiously. It was the kind of look
that would make anyone squirm.
The older woman broke the silence with a question:
"why are you here?"
The younger woman was at a loss for words. She
could feel them jumbling around in her brain
and worried she would make an even greater
mess of them once they reached her tongue.

She licked her lips and tried as best she could to get the words
out, straight and streamlined while the older woman
waited, a rock of curious patience. The younger woman
could see a growing amusement behind
her gray blue eyes.

The younger woman pondered the question asked of
her. It was a simple question with a not-so-simple
answer. She looked around the book filled room,
her eyes glancing off of framed diplomas.

The sun was setting and nodes of dust were visible
floating in from the window.
The younger woman realized she had no clue as to
why she was there. Life was so jumbled, a
jig saw puzzle where some of the pieces were missing.

She stammered an apology to the older woman
leaving the building and effectively leaving the program.
she knew a new adventure was on the horizon and
knew she's find the missing pieces somewhere out there.