words don't come that easy.

x

23.01.22
00:14

I remember the stranger I met at the grocery store last week. It was a Wednesday evening. My mother needed extra bread because we ran out of it. I entered the familiar store and breathed in the weird scent of raw vegetables and strawberry cake. Looking through the shelves of different items, I got the bread and moved to the billing counter. There was a girl standing in front of me, she looked a few years younger than me. She was pretty. Maybe I had stared for too long because next thing I know, she had looked at me and I read her eyes. It carried the kind of sadness that you get after losing someone. I might've creeped her out with all the staring because she walked away as soon as she was done paying for the stuff she bought. The semicolon tattoo on her left wrist is something which didn't go unnoticed. It was like I swallowed a portion of her misery because I wanted to wail and cry. I walked out of the store feeling numb that day. A week has passed yet I did not forget about the little girl. Picturing her tattoo, I drew a little semicolon on my left wrist and covered it with up my sweater sleeve.