[SE] for a moment I forget to worry

A m a l i a She has been enjoying the respite, basking in the glow of peaceful solitude, the quiet pleasure of success. Amalia is an introverted thing; as much as she has enjoyed the festival, she values the time to recharge and refresh, away from whispered voices and prying eyes. The fresh air, the warm sun, the strains of music in the air- all of them make for a lovely tableau, a framing of the gathered, celebratory souls which the girl watches with onyx eyes. Ah, but solitude cannot last long on days like this. The baker draws herself upright as the familiar farm boy draws near, pushing her weight off of the counter and dusting off her sleeves. No rest for the wicked, the girl reflects, smiling ruefully and inhaling a breath before turning her sunlit expression upon the young man. He is something from a memory, half-known, though a name evades her now. His family must have traded with them, she thinks. Eric Allens? No, that's somebody else. Shrugging, Amalia smiles her reply, pride coloring her narrow cheeks a rosy pink. "A lovely day," the baker affirms, pulling absently at her sleeve as memories of early antics flicker through her mind, her senses filled with scattered flowers and wild dark hair and strong arms and a buoyant smile, a far-off look upon her face. Returning her attention to the boy, the dark-eyed girl clears her throat. "And you? Have you been enjoying yourself...?" Edgar Chestnut? No, they all have fiery hair. The girl nibbles on her lip, willing herself to remember that just-out-of-reach name. She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine