She walked to the office on a Sunday morning. A uniformed man in his booth ate a powder donut. Cars paused at red lights and old ladies with white poodles ambled past her. Her headphones filtered out the city noise and all she could hear was the wistful melody of the song she had on repeat. She felt distant from her life, like a detached audience member watching the movie of someone else's biography. These were her feet walking and her skin straining to keep everything inside. Yet she floated on thoughts of her sweet addiction. She thought of him.
She imagined him listening to the song. She wondered what he would be thinking. It would answer all of his questions and explain everything she's been feeling. Then she wondered if he was even thinking of her this moment, or if she was a mere afterthought to his real life.
The light turned green and she crossed the street to her office. She took the elevator, walked to her desk, and turned off the song. Life resumed.
No comments:
Post a Comment