The first time I saw her, she was dancing in an open field. It was a small town, she didn't live here. I would know. Her arms flailed as she jumped and pranced and twirled. She looked so carefree I couldn't bear to bother her, so I went back inside. 

Hours passed and the afternoon sun stopped shining. I looked out the window, there she was. The girl is still dancing, this is when I decided to ask her what she was doing. 

"Excuse me," I ask. The girl lowers her arms from above her head and turns to me. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you here, and why are you dancing?" I was afraid the girl would get offended and run, but instead she gives me the brightest smile I've ever seen. 

"Don't you see?" She grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. I was sure that her smile alone could bring back the light from the sun that shone so brightly only hours ago. "Nothing matters!" The girl laughed and spun around again, "nothing at all! It's all so trivial and silly!" The girl continued to spin. She seemed to be in a trance, and would not answer another question I threw at her, so I gave up and left. 

I went to bed that night, confused as ever, and as I walked away the girl continued to dance. Late that night, I looked out the window. I do not know why I expected to see her at an ungodly hour in the night, but it seemed she had gone home to sleep, wherever that would be.

The next morning, I rise before the birds start chirping. I do so often, for every morning I have to wash the clothes, then take any dry clothes off the drying line and replace them with the freshly washed clothes from the morning. Then I see her again, dancing without a care in the world, before the world is even awake to watch her. 

"She's taking up so much space right in the middle of town," I hear a granny say as I walk down the paved road to buy some bread. "But the children love her, have you seen little Yevna watch her dance with such a light in her eyes? Why I don't think that child's ever smiled since she's emerged from the womb!" 

Once again, later that day once all the children have gone to rest, once I've completed all my chores for the day, I approach the girl and try to ask her some more questions, for I am very curious and very nosey. 

"Excuse me miss," I say, "who are you exactly? And why do you dance so happily while saying such upsetting words?" 

The girl only smiled as she temporarily stopped twisting and twirling, "I am simply a lady who does not matter! For nothing matters!" She smiled while I frowned. 

"Why do you sound so happy saying that? Everyone matters! Even you!" I justify, but she just ticks her tongue. She does not look frustrated or angry, nor does she look sad. It was as if she was correcting a young child. 

"No, you see, nothing matters!" She repeats, and I only grow confused.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?" I asked, and she nodded, as if she's been waiting her whole life to talk. 

"Nothing we do will matter in the end, you see? You go out and line your clothes and buy your bread, but what will it do? Where will it get you? Nowhere! Nothing! It does not matter at all!"

"Of course the little things may not all matter individually, but as a whole, who you are as a person, everyone is remembered by someone! Therefore, everyone matters." 

She shakes her head, as if the words I spoke were of a foolish scholars. "And then that person will die, and soon everyone will forget." She says 

"How about the history books? Those people will be remembered forever!" 

"What history book has every name in history? Even great kings and queens go forgotten." 

"How about the gods?" I challenge her, "do you think they will all be forgotten as well?" 

All she does is giggle in response, "well, when I wake up a god, I suppose maybe I'll rethink my stance." My cheeks grow red, I suppose she's right, it's not like anyone could become a god.

"What about our impact on the world?" I continue to press, "everyone thinks they don't matter, but all those individuals make a whole." 

"Yes, but without one individual, the impact will still remain, don't you think? One soul won't make a difference, it's all of the souls together that do."

I am a very curious person, and this girl was a very interesting one. Once my questions stop, she continues to dance. I bid her goodnight and return to my house. It's a very bleak house, the gray tint near the windows is chipping off, and the blue paint has gone dull from all the weathering. I cannot afford to have it fixed. I wonder, as I walk, if this one house didn't exist, would it really change the world so much?  

That night, I think, and I decide to write about my experiences with her, because maybe someone will find this, and it will matter to someone. 

Every day I returned to her, and every day I asked her why she was like this and what formed her ideals. Every day, she'd say the same thing. 

"It does not matter, because I do not matter, because nothing matters." 

Every day she said it, she got sadder. Eventually, I stopped asking, because someone like her must have lost so much, she shouldn't lose her smile as well. I stopped visiting her to watch her dance because of how tempted I was to ask. Truly, I am so immature. Note, reader, that this was not a short period of time the two of us spent apart, rather months of time that we haven't conversed. 

My house was blue, the color used to be bright, at least so I've heard, but by the time I bought it, as the price of the estate went down, so did the quality. The blue paint is faded and the grey is chipped. It was a sad house indeed. 

They say a house is a reflection of its owner, and this was no lie when it came to me. You see, just like the house, my existence was so sad, even to someone who only saw the best in things, it could only be seen as insignificant at best. The town I lived in was so small I knew every inhabitant by name, but I believe no one else can, because one name would always be missing. Mine. 

It's clear now, from that admittedly depressing rant, that a knock to my door for any reason other than taxes would be strange, and yet one chilly fall night, there was a knock at my door. Taxes are collected mid-spring. 

"Hello?" I ask, as I walk to the door and turn the knob, and behind the door stands none other than the girl who danced in the middle of the field. 

"I am ready to answer questions," she says, which takes me aback, "I discovered that I've grown to miss your company, so I sought you out. What is your name?" 

I smile, finding an opportunity to joke; "Does my name truly matter?" But the statement is undoubtedly true. Does it really? Will it ever? 

"Well, this insignificant one is Mavis," she says, cutting off my thoughts, "may I come inside?" 

"Of course!" I say, flustered, and move to the side to let her in. I guide Mavis to my living room, a room as underwhelming as the exterior of the house. In fact, there isn't much else in the house other than a mattress, some small pieces of furniture, bits of food, and a room covered in yarn. 

"I'm sorry there isn't much, would you like some water?" I ask, hoping the lack of hominess in my house wouldn't offend her somehow. She nods in response, so I run to the kitchen to get two cups of water, one for her and one for me. I don't have many cups, I never expected for more than one to be used at a time. I hand Mavis her cup of water and she thanks me. It feels good to be able to do something for someone else. 

I grabbed a pen and a notebook from my table to record our conversation. "Is it ok if I ask you some questions now?" I asked stupidly, she already said I could, so I don't know why I asked again. Still, I felt like I should, so I did. Of course, she nodded, and I contemplated what I should say first. 

"Why do you think nothing matters?" I asked. It was a good start, it summed up all of the questions I had about her in the first place. Mavis looked as if she was deep in thought. 

"That would be a long story, in short, I discovered not long ago that everyone lives for something. If it is for ourselves, then once we die, we don't matter anymore. If it is for something, then we never mattered in the first place, because that thing will never know of us. And if we lived for someone else, once they are gone, who would we live for?" 

There is a sense of longing in her voice, so I ask, rather insensitivity I admit; "have you ever lived for someone else?" There was deep curiosity that flowed from my thoughts to my tone, perhaps I made the questions sound more serious than it was. But by the way she responded, I don't think I did. 

"I did." She said, nothing more and nothing less. This answer only made my curiosity grow. Still, I didn't know how to ask, so I did not. 

"Where did you live before this?" Perhaps I could piece together parts of her personality using things I already knew about people from other regions. Perhaps it was stereotypical, but it was something, and I needed that something to latch onto. 

"Tenri," she said, which was not what I was expecting. People from Tenri are not known to be very beautiful, and yet her smile shone brighter than the sun. People from Tenri were known to have such pale skin you could see every vein, and such deep eye bags a giant could drown in them. Yet, Mavis had rich olive skin and a clear face. Her long brown hair bounced up into little curls, and she had the most gorgeous almond eyes. They were so dull, and yet incredibly fascinating. 

The next question I asked took me slightly aback, despite the words coming from my own mouth. "What kind of person were you? Do you think you have changed at all?" She must have changed, no one could possibly have had such a depressing mind state as a kid. 

"A bad one," she smiled, "whether I have changed, that is up to you." I think she definitely must have changed, what evil person would dance in a field and entertain the young children in a town so happily. Still, Mavis says; "However, this biography you are writing is one of a villain."

As I mentioned before, I couldn't imagine someone such as Mavis to be a villain. Perhaps it could be because of how kind she seemed, or because of how much this girl reminded me of myself. Neither of us mattered, we were all alone. 

"If you're from Tenri, how did you get all the way here to Keline? Did you really cross the globe?" Though Tenri wasn't actually too far from the Keline plains, it was nearly impossible to get from one to the other without crossing the entire globe. The valley of chalk stands between it, a sandy plain that devoured anything that passed through it. On the other side sits a large ocean with one center island, Loros, guarded by a hostile dragon, one unlike the friendly ones here in the plains. No one who passed over the island has survived. In fact, we don't even know if life still exists there.

"I did, in fact, that's where my story starts."