“I called her Maria. Maria, like my own adopted name, was not her given name. I knew it at one time… but the passing of many years has left me only with, “Maria”. The name reminded me of a show I had seen as a kid, nigh on four years old. I remember nothing of the show, with the exception of course… of dear Maria. I had always fancied her, if you can comprehend that a boy as young as four years old, could indeed fancy a girl. She was always the one with the gentle touch, and a word of wisdom. Clichéd, words of wisdom of course, but, as young as I was, I could hardly have understood the concept of cliché.”

(Sarcastic but very kind hearted, will try anything once, but is unlikely to appreciate it. Prefers to wear white clothing, but will wear green If her whites are in the wash. Was controlled very much by her parents a child but has grown out of it in her older years, and now sees the world much more realistically. Still, however, prefers to apply her own ideals, than to see things how they really are. Chipper, cheerful)

 

“Maria eyed me quizzically as I readied my gear for the trip. Not so uncommon for her. She often displayed such curious fascination when confronted with, what anyone else, would consider a normal action, that one might have be forced to reconsider the normalcy of said situation.

‘Eh… something bothering you Maria?’ I asked, as my eyes wandered the scene searching for any sign of oddity.

“nope!” her reply was short, and cheerful, her mouth slowly rising to a grin.

Sometimes if you questioned her at these times, she would seem as though breaking from a spell. Her eyes would glaze over, before her quick reply. Always outwardly cheerful, but I knew better. Despite Maria’s outwardly sunny disposition, she had seen more pain than anyone cared to acknowledge. I never knew what she was thinking, but I felt that she had deserved the right to keep her mind to herself, if she willed it. “