The scent of her cheap perfume was ever so light; like the soft kiss of the wind. Her fingers were light too. Fragile and delicate. One would be too scared to hold them, afraid that they would shatter, as glass would. The garments she clothed herself in were those of strangers; found in thrift stores that no one ever visited. Her too big jeans were held up by an old leather belt. Her faded blue shirt had all sorts of stains in them.
On rare occasions when she would lift her face, you could see her dull, brown eyes and her thin, chapped lips. It had to be a really, really, REALLY good day for her to smile. Usually she looked dead; pale, unmoving and void of life.
She always walked on the inner corners of the sidewalk, as if she was afraid of getting too close to the cars. Once upon a time she used to utter a delicate, "Sorry" to anyone she bumped in to. Now she didn't even flinch. It was almost scary to see a person be so detached from the world. It was like she was too busy trying to find the end of pi to pay attention to the world.
She had given up hope on the world; just as the world had given up hope on her.
~*~
I am so so SO sorry for not updating! I've been caught up with school and I have exams coming up and I've just been a mess! I don't know when I'll update next, but maybe soon.
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Snippets
AléatoireA collection of the little fishes that swim around in my head. Some people call them quotes, short stories, poems, rants etc. They distract me when I'm supposed to be doing 'important' things like homework or cleaning my room. All rights reserved...
