Stuff for Stuffy Reasons of Stuffness

Happy Ending

The stench. That was the first thing I noticed upon walking into the camp. It drifted on the humid breeze, curling around my stoic form mixing with my sickly sweet fragrance of perfume making a grotesque cocktail of smell as it finally reached my nose. Displeasure was clearly broadcasted across my face as my nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed. Chocking as I sucked in another breath I reached for my clean pressed white handkerchief to cover the lower half of my face, a futile attempt to lessen the vulgar concoction of scent wafting around.

I clutched the hem of my dress with my free hand, unconsciously wiping my sweaty palm on the tan fabric, running my fingers over the impeccable stitch work embroided around the edges. The wind picked up once again, scattering sand, litter and smell alike, drawing my attention to the sun baked ground in front of me. Makeshift tents dotted the landscape, set in an organised chaos as worn down tracks marked paths weaving between each settlement.

The people matched the landscape, covered in a thick layer of dirt, cloaked with patchwork clothes, huddled or milling around in groups together. Their rugged appearance reminded me of the homeless man that sits at the corner of the street. His mismatched clothes, huddled in old blankets and hungry eyes, searching, pleading for any amount of satisfaction.

But the one thing I noticed most was the utter defeat. The rejection and loss lingering in their eyes as their gazes settled on me. No hope. No love. No glory.

No happy ending.