She stood in line at the Met grocery store with a wild puff of uncombed brown hair. Ran her fingers across all the chocolates. Balanced on the edge of the shopping cart and did not flinch when she teetered. Huge blue eyes with razor sharp focus.
“What’s your name?” she asked the woman in front of her.
“Amber. But I already know you. Emerson. Right?”
“Yup. I’m six years old and I lost three teeth.” She stuck her neck out, grinned to reveal the gap.
“Six years old. Three teeth.” She repeated. A serious measure.
Amber paid for her groceries, waved goodbye.
“You’re Amber.” She stated. And just like that she was off the cart, spinning on one toe.
“That’s right. Amber. Goodbye Emerson.”
She did not look at Amber go. She did not look up to her father, who held her rainbow backpack. On his arm, it looked too small, too clumsy. Instead she was completely focused on her balance, arms out, toe pointed as she made her delicate turn.
“Daddy. That’s what life is all about. Meeting new people.”