Floating

Renard drifted along amongst the shoppers, minding his own business as he looked around at the wares on sale. As usual, people stared at him, off put by something he was doing or some way that he looked that he didn't understand. It had been like that for as long as he could remember. People just didn't want to talk to him. They always stared at him, but then when he tried to talk to them they would run away. He simply didn't understand.

He smiled down at a child who stopped to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. The children were much more prone to upfront acts of confusion. He could often hear their sounds of wonder and amusement as he passed them. A parent or guardian was always quick to shoo them away, however, quickly and quietly instructing them not to stare. He could never get enough time with them to figure out what was so confusing about himself. He knew that the children would be more likely to say something about it, but he just never had time.

"Hello, little one," he said to the boy, dropping down to get closer to them. "Can I help you today?"

The child looked up at him in amazement. "How do you do that?" they asked.

Renard blinked, confused. "Do what?" he asked back.

Before the child could respond, however, their parent grabbed onto their arm and pulled them away, reprimanding them for sticking their nose in someone else's business. "But his feet..." he heard just barely as the child disappeared into the crowd. Renard lifted back up, scratching his head as he pondered what that was supposed to mean. What was so strange about his feet? They looked pretty normal to him.

He moved on until he found a small store that was selling some antiques. He ducked his head to enter, then glided from item to item, scanning through what they had for anything that might catch his eye.

"Excuse me," came a voice from the back. "Can I help you?"

Renard looked up to see who he assumed was the owner of the store. He smiled and shook his head. "Just browsing," he explained.

The owner didn't smile at him. "Then would you mind getting out?"

Renard frowned. "Why?"

"You're disturbing me and my other customers."

"What? How? What am I doing?"

"Are you kidding me? Either stop or get out."

"Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your feet are a foot off the ground, how can you claim to not know what you're doing?"