The Constant Patron

In the bustling heart of the city, before its grand renovation, stood the Riverbend Mall—a labyrinth of polished floors and mirrored pillars. As a child, I accompanied my mother on her weekly errands, trailing behind her through the long corridors. Every visit, I noticed a woman seated near the fountain on the ground floor. She was perhaps thirty, with skin like alabaster and hair black as ink that fell past her waist. Her dress was a seamless white garment that seemed to shimmer under the harsh fluorescents. No one else ever glanced her way. She sat motionless, her gaze fixed on some distant point, never blinking, never shifting. I was both fascinated and unnerved by her stillness.

Years passed, and we moved across town, but occasional trips back to Riverbend were unavoidable. To my surprise, the woman was always there, in the same spot, as if she had never moved. The mall had aged, with peeling paint and flickering lights, yet she remained unchanged. One evening, during a festival, vendors set up stalls in the central atrium. A pop-up shop selling hand-painted fans caught my eye, its bright LEDs buzzing nearby. My mother browsed, and I wandered, drawn by a strange compulsion to the exact pillar where the woman sat. This time, she was not looking forward but directly at me. Her lips parted, and I heard a voice, though her mouth barely moved. ‘I see you,’ it said, and a slow, unfamiliar smile spread across her face.

Terrified, I turned to run, but my feet felt rooted to the floor. The mall seemed to grow darker, the cheerful chatter fading into a low hum. She stood, and for the first time, I noticed her dress was not seamless but stitched with a pattern of tiny, near-invisible faces, their expressions frozen in agony. She glided toward me, her bare feet making no sound. ‘I have waited so long,’ she whispered, her breath cold. ‘You are the only one who ever truly saw me. Now, you can take my place, and I can leave this place.’ Before I could scream, she reached out and touched my forehead, and the world went white.

When I came to, I was sitting against the pillar, my skin pale as marble, my hair long and black. The mall was silent, eerily empty. My mother was gone, and no one else was around. I tried to stand, but my body felt heavy, as if held by an unseen force. I heard footsteps approaching, and I looked up to see a young child staring at me, their eyes wide with recognition. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. I realized then that I had become the constant patron, waiting for someone like myself to see me, to free me. And as the years passed, I sat there, watching the world change around me, while I remained frozen in time.