THE GARDEN;;

[EMILY LEXINGTON]

Jonas barked as he wagged his little tail and jumped up onto her bed, licking her cheek to wake her up. She let out a soft, comfortable groan as she stretched her arms up, the little pug scuttling to the side as she sat up.

"Morning, Jonas," she chuckled as she pet him softly. The pug seemed to happily sit on her beige covers. His tiny dog tag was shaped like a bone and was silver, Jonas! engraved in script on it, a dodger blue collar going around his neck. The pug was young, only three years old. It had been a present from her doctor's wife shortly after she got out of the hospital and was stuck living in a hotel for what felt like forever since she didn't have a home yet. Well, now she was an established citizen of Melilla, Spain.

She got up, showered, got dressed, and then ate breakfast before putting on Jonas' leash and heading on over to town to maybe pick up some fruit fo she could make a smoothie later. She had to visit her doctor today to see her progress. It was a once a month routine now, and she didn'y mind. His wife had sort of become like her therapist and it was nice to know that she knew some people in Melilla who knew a little bit more about her-that she was simply missing.

She wore a white sun dress with soft pink flats, and a silver cross, small, hanging from a thin chain around her neck. It was the same necklace she had on when she first woke up. It had the initials J. C engraved into it, and she had no idea who J.C was...The doctor had told her it meant 'Jesus Christ'. Emily had gone along with it, though she highly doubted it meant Jesus Christ. A bit redundant hmm?

She walked along the street, smiling at people who smiled at her back. Her short, blond hair was down as it always was. She had cut it. She remembered waking up and having such long blonde hair. It had reached her mid back. Not understand why on earth she would let her hair grow out when she had left New York City with hair that reached her shoulders. She ended up just cutting it off so it hung above her thin shoulders.

Jonas barked, happily walking next to her as they reached the boardwalk. They would have to kill time until the stand opened so she shifted through her small, pastel pink slouch bag, and pulled out a tennis ball. She took the leash off of Jonas, now that they were at the sandy beach right across from the fruit stand, she tossed the ball, not too far of course, and little Jonas chased after it cheerfully while barking before coming back, proudly holding the ball in his jaw. She had taken off her flats and left them on a nearby bench along with her purse, which had nothing important in it. She had her pink sweater draped over it anyways. It was pretty early in the morning, the only people around being the few people that would jog or roller blade-some early surfers as well.

"Good boy, Jonas!" she laughed as she squatted slightly to get the ball from the dog. Her manicured toes felt the warm sand as she threw the ball again and the dog went after it again. She loved the morning...She always could think a lot more clearly...

[ISADORA JECAULT]

The warm, gentle tendrils of the rising sun stroked Izzy’s face with a soft touch. She was curled up in the sand of the beach, ears full with the sound of crashing waves, eyes closed against the deep pink of the brightening sky. For her the early morning hadn’t come nearly fast enough; she felt as though an eternity had come and gone during the time she waited for that sun to rise, staring at the moon as it crept ever-so-slowly back down to the horizon. She didn’t even remember falling asleep, though she must have, or the tennis ball that rolled into her head wouldn’t have awakened her with the blast of accompanying pain.

It took her a moment to get her bearings. Izzy hadn’t expected waking up cold, uncomfortable, and…gritty. Everything, down to her eyelashes, was laden with a thin layer of sand. She rolled over with a groan when she realized she had slept on the beach, and let out another moan when the reason why finally came back to her. Her roommate had locked her out of the house for missing a dance rehearsal and leaving him partner-less.

Previously Izzy hadn't thought he could hold a grudge. In fact, she hadn't thought anyone who chose gleefully to live in a bright orange house could hold a grudge. For god’s sake, she had only skipped one rehearsal before this! One! And it was for work—for the job that he had begged her to take. And now he was complaining that it had taken over her life, that it had given her a wrong sense of priorities. He was like a jealous husband.

So apparently locking out of the house and making her spend the night on a godforsaken beach where anyone could have taken advantage of her was supposed to make her “think about” her “behavior.” Jeez, she didn’t know whether to think of him as a jealous husband or her mother. She had to conclude that he must be on his man-period.

Whatever. Izzy was tired of pondering the mysteries of life; life just proved to be too abysmal. And considering carefully the reasons why her roommate would lock her out of the house was just another part of that eternally damning puzzle--something she didn't wish to complete if she could help it, despite his orders. Hmph. She'd done enough thinking. He just wouldn't submit to her findings: that he was just a pouty little bitch who thought she was some kind of a pathological liar constantly flaking out on him. But she wasn’t making up excuses to get out of commitments… at least, not this time.

She had been feeling horrible, despite what her roommate believed. This general malaise had just fallen over her like a thick, suffocating veil; her heart palpitated when she exerted herself, she bruised like a peach, and her head constantly felt like it was going to burst apart at the seams. There was absolutely no denying the feeling that her world might explode at the touch of a simple tennis ball. She’d love to give her roommate just one second of the reason she skipped out on him, just one second. He was such a pansy; she would love to watch him writhe in pain, something that he almost did upon receiving a simple paper cut.

She sat up slowly, one hand rubbing her left temple in order to ward off the headache, the other picking up the offending tennis ball from the beach. Izzy stared at it: bright green, fuzzy, and slightly damp with… something. Ew. A cheerful dog sauntered happily over to her. She stared at it, ball still in hand, unwilling to believe that this little thing could even get its mouth around the toy. It was just so… small. And friendly. She glanced around quickly to find its owner, and upon seeing Emily, called over.

“Hey, this your dog?”

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