Bye
I hardly ever talk to real people anymore. Really talk. I don't know... I guess I just haven't been interested. To be fair, I haven't been especially interesting either.
Anyway.
Last night was awful in an absolutely ridiculous way, and I have decided to stop whoring my life over the internet.
Bye.
My boots alternately squish and crunch over the brownish sludge covering the sidewalk. To the right, past the parked cars wearing coats of snow, the road is clear and black and wet. To the left, a vast plain of untouched whiteness marks a construction site. Squish, crunch. Squish, crunch. The metro ride had been hot and sweaty underneath coats and scarves, and everyone had pulled off hats and gloves for the time being. The outside air with its thin confetti of snowflakes feels cold and clean against my skin. It leaves flecks of white in my dark hair, miniscule flakes clinging to my lashes. Squish, squish, crunch. I wait at the intersection of a street to cross, stamping a little bit, blowing puffs of steam from my mouth, feeling like an impatient horse. To the left, a XXX store. To the right, a tattoo parlor. I cross the street and keep walking. Past the DVD rental shop, past the hair salon. I pause at the entrance to the familiar alley near the apartment. Tire tracks and footprints scar the frosted ground. The wooden steps at the end of the alley that lead up to the next street are wet and almost black - a stark contrast to all the washed out whites and grays of the earth and sky. Just half a block further. I keep walking, jingling the foreign change that isn't mine in my pocket. A girl around my age walks alone on the opposite side of the street. It is almost like we aren't alone, walking like that. I count the doorways on my left. Two more. One more. Here. I fumble with the keys until one slips into the lock. Kicking snow off my boots, I step into the apartment stairwell. As I turn to close the door, I see the girl watching me as she walks away.
