Sometimes death comes for us, and sometimes he doesn't mean to.
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None of the photos are mine, and belong to their respectful owners.
This is a work of fiction. I do n...
𒊹︎You bolted upright in your bed, breathe laboured and erratic. There was a dull pounding at the back of your head and your chest felt tight, aching. You looked around the room, your bed sheets and blankets sprawled on the floor; orange and red hues painted in the sky, glowing against the metal of large city buildings.
"Ugh." You groaned, stumbling from your bed to the bathroom. "What the hell kind of dream did I have?!" As you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, it was evident that your cheeks were tear stained; eyes puffy and swollen. "I...can't seem to remember what it was about, either."
You sighed, taking a quick shower and pulling on your uniform. The navy blue material hugged your hips perfectly, a medical badge on the sleeves of your shirt and jacket. Grabbing your keys you slipped on your shoes, locking the door behind you.
"Morning, Mrs. Catvich." You waved to the old lady that lives in the apartment across from you. She waved back, continuing to water her outdoor plants.
She was a nice lady...but she definitely had to many cats.
The station wasn't far from your house, so you often walked there, enjoying the quietness-as quite as New York could be-of the morning air. You weaved through people as you crossed the crosswalk, accidentally bumping into someone and causing him to drop his papers.
"Oh gosh! I am so sorry about that." You apologized, bending down to help the man collect his papers. He gave you a sheepish smile, dimples on either side of his rosy cheeks.
"It's quite alright. Thank you for your service." Taken aback, you nodded, once again apologizing before slipping away into your favourite coffee shop.
