I walk. At ease, at peace. Naive.
A flurry of motion.
A streak of hair.
Blotchy red.
Shaking shoulders.
Fingers clutching at her supporter's neck.
They disappear into the nearest bathroom. I stare, but continue to walk.
I walk. Troubled, shaken. Naive.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love this. So very much. Please please keep writing.
ReplyDelete