Black and White:The Avenue

It was a black and white landscape. Black dress, white skin. Dark hair fell over her face and down her back in a cloud of curls, caught back by silver clips that glimmered in the battered light from the streetlamps. She pushed it back behind her ears with shaking fingers, but it fell forward again, shading her face from the night air.
The sound of voices from the street behind her urged her down the avenue stretching away in front of her. She stepped forward slowly, one hand clasping the bag on her shoulder tight to her side. Her fingers picked nervously at the leather as she walked. As the voices faded, she kicked off her black stilettos and walked barefoot. The gravel glistened with shattered glass, but she did not seem to care.
From the shadows I watched her walk forward. Her bare feet were light on the stones, her steps small, hesitant. She looked like a shadow as she glided forward, so light and insubstantial that she could be swept away by one of the breezes that shook the trees hanging protectively over her.
As the darkness thickened, she increased her pace. Her legs strained against her tight skirt as she hurried forward. The black dress merged with the shadows around it, loosing her shape in a smudge of darkness. She tilted her head back to gaze at the canopy of leaves above her, and as she moved, her hair caught the faded light from the streetlights and glimmered like a field of stars.
I followed her, my footsteps echoing hers silently, my figure hidden in the shadows of the trees around her. As she left the protective glow of the streetlights further behind, her pace quickened. Her steps were no longer small and hesitant. They grew longer, more determined. She shivered in the night air, but did not seem to notice the coat in her arms.
In the middle of the park, the fountain reared suddenly from the darkness. The water played across the stone like ink, staining the white rock with shadows. Her eyes were lowered as she walked on, her dark hair spilling over her arms and hiding her face. She hesitated in the centre of the avenue, her eyes casting about, her hidden face searching.
As I stepped forwards from the shadows she turned and met my gaze. Her eyes were dark, fearful. Her lips were stained black in the midnight air, her slender cheekbones painted silver by the moon. The darkness swelled around us as we remained, locked in each others gaze.
Finally I turned and walked away. I felt her eyes follow me down the darkened avenue, but still she said nothing.