What a pretty jacket – such a sharp and catching color. She must know it is a color of power and confidence.
I see her standing across the road, waiting for a bus. Her eyes are cast downward, her head tilted towards the sidewalk. Still, I can see her sadness. Her eyes are dark and tumultuous; a sea of pain so deep it can drown you.
Are those tears in the corners?
Or is it just the light reflecting off her skin in the setting sun of dusk?
If she were to look up, would she see me, a mirror of her. Reflecting our secrets, our stories of horror, silently back and forth. Separated by cement and painted lines; connected by an unequivocal understanding. I can see how badly she needs comfort, I wish I could wipe away her tears, but I can sense her resistance. Now is not the time.
As I continue walking, I know we will meet one day. I can’t help but think to myself, she wears her heart on her sleeve, that girl in the red jacket.
The reflections were blinding, flashing quickly before the dusk settled again. I had to turn my eyes downward from the glare. I don’t know where they are coming from. Did anyone else see it?
I feel the tears form and roll down my cheeks. I can see them sparkle in my peripheral. I dare not wipe them; I don’t want anyone to know. Why does this always happen?
As the sun sets, I can feel the shadows form along the walls of the buildings around me. They take shape next to the people standing near, stretching from the street signs reaching for my feet.
All my demons rising to the surface to haunt my night. My pain is visceral, I long for a place to turn for comfort. But I trust no one.
Suddenly I see her; walking down the road, with her back to me. She is standing so tall, so confident. I flinch at my own shortcomings. When did she pass? I feel such curiosity for this stranger that slipped past me. Why do I want to see her face?
Hmmm. With a shrug, I straighten my new red jacket. A bold color I chose to feel powerful and in control. Something about color psychology.
Ah, here comes the bus.
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