Pompeii, Italy
AD 52
I see the dust in the air through the morning sunbeams in the atrium of the home. The inner courtyard is an open space, not so bright yet, but has a square hole in the roof covering, allowing a garden to grow there. My sight takes in a woman, strolling in the garden. She comes through the vegetation and enters the room in which I am sitting, quietly, on a stone pedestal, watching.
Here she encounters a man clad in white cloth whom she converses with.
Marcus! Why are you not at the inn working? You know that we need the money.
I am on my way very soon, Arria. I first must tend to the dusting of the statues in this room.
You and your statues! You know if you spent half the time trying to support us by taking care of the inn as you spend on your stupid collection, we would have no problems!
The man hangs his head. He knows she is right, and he is ashamed.
The man approaches me, and runs a finger over my features. They are slightly worn from time, but recognizable. He finds comfort in me as he does in his other statues.
You should go now, Marcus.
Yes, Arria, I will go now.
