Number Two (#2)

1 09 2009

She pressed her cheek against the cold glass, and watched the parked cars race by. Fat rain drops bashed against the other side of the glass, not strong enough to break through, but fierce enough to make her cringe back when they landed too near her eye. A sky the colour of wet newspaper let her know that the rain wouldn’t be ending any time soon. She didn’t mind. The sun would not have been welcome anyway. Dark moods need dark days.

The bus shook to a halt at yet another run down shelter. She vacantly stared towards the opening door. Just people getting off, no new arrivals. Not that she cared. She didn’t really care for much right now. Now, all that mattered was getting away from here, from this, from everything, from her life.

She turned back to the window. The world felt the same way as she did, grey and alone. A fallen rainbow of reflected fluorescence tried to rise up from the roads surface, but got trampled down by the stampede of angry cars. Colours had no place here.

As the bus pulled away, she pressed her cheek to the cold glass again. The rain still ran down the outside of the window. Only now it was mirrored by the tears that ran down the inside.

Number One (#1)

11 08 2009

This stupid cursor keeps blinking at me in the impatient way that cursors blink when you can’t think of things to write.