Ink

-15-

After the door shuts and the footsteps die...my eyes flickr open. He's gone.

My feet brushes against the cool ground as I slip my feet into flats, don a cap, take my keys and wallet. The door dangles on its hinges as I step out, London's eventide winds tickling my cheeks. The streetlamp glares down upon me; its neon brilliance shining down upon me. My shadow danced and swayed as I walked down the road. 

Where's he? Where is he going?

My heart quickens, as adrenaline kicks me into overdrive. My toes dig into my shoes, my nails turn pale alabaster, my breath is light. The cavern which is my mouth is dry and arid. My teeth are the white calcite, digging into my tongue. It draws blood. I feel numb.

Where's he...

I run. My feet slap against the concrete pavement, the stars sing above me. Their gentle tune of light. 

I need to find him.