Moksha

TIME OF DEATH

 She watched the water droplets race each other to the bottom of the bus's window. She'd done it. She'd escaped. But where would she go? She had a couple thousand dollars. She could stay at a low budget hotel, get a job, an apartment. But first Sally Jensen had to go. Her shadow still lingered. She had to shed this skin that was weighing her down. These thoughts raced through her mind as the droplets finally reached their destination.

The bus came to an abrupt stop and the music of rain faded into the background as she looked at the grimy bus stop. City noises pierced the silence that she had immersed herself in. The more spread out, much colder city of Boston greeted her. She dragged her roller bag through the rain, her hoodie barely preventing the rain from soaking her. She shivered as she found a rundown little hotel near the edge of downtown Boston. She paid for a week's worth of room and board. She settled down in the slightly musty-smelling room. She pulled hair dye out of her backpack and her wallet. She took Sally's driver's license and other documents with her identity. She spent hours dying her hair a dark red and then burnt all the documents. She looked into the mirror and took in her new reflection along with the smell of dissipating smoke: red hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Every trace of her was gone. Sally Jensen's time of death had finally come to call; better late than never.