The Graveyard Near the House

There's a girl walking down the street today. She looks like a student, shoulders hunched under the strain of an over-stuffed backpack, presumably books. Just like any other person on the street, she has the world blocked out with the standard issue white i-pod earbuds that continuously pop out of her right ear every few steps. Remarkably, irritation doesn't show on her face as she patiently replaces it every time, even chuckling on occasion. It's a common occurrence it would seem. There's nothing remarkable about her. A twenty-something girl, straight brown hair pulled into a ponytail with black glasses adorning her face. The thing that captures the attention is her head swiveling back and forth, taking in her location. Almost as if she'd never seen it before. This time, she doesn't watch the sidewalk under her feet for the fear of tripping on the uneven ground. Curiously, she periodically stops mid-step and clomps backward and stops to stare at.. something. Once in the middle of an empty street, peering down the hill at the scattered houses, mountains and clouded sky. She stands transfixed, eyes wide and a smile curving up her face. Sometimes it was a home. Gabled roof and brick; nothing remarkable. One would have to make a concerted effort to view due to the overgrowth of green. She mutters about fairy tales and hobbit homes and continues on.