Gibberish.

{1}

The sky was crying. Cold and heavy tears formed dark puddles on the street. Every now and then, it would sniff a loud and thunderous sniff, quite contrary to its condition.

'Oh, shut up, you whiny baby,' She thought.

Clara clicked her wet boots on the rain as she walked. Her hood was up, but the coat did little to shield her from the rain. Wet black hair covered a bit of her eyes, but she couldn't be less bothered to push it aside.

Sighing, she went into the 'gym'. Walking in the rain won't do. She needed to punch something. Without saying a word to the guy at the front desk, she slammed a 100 dollar bill on the table and went towards one of the punching bags.

She shrugged her coat off, looking less like a grim reaper, and peeled her shirt off. She shook her head so her hair would fall back and looked around for a hair tie. She picked up a piece of rope and tied her hair into a bun.

Umph—

THUD!

"You guys got some real punching bags here?" She shouted, glaring at the torn bag that fell down with just one punch. Sand was coming out of it settling on the concrete floor.

Clara, however, was boiling with anger. She had started punching. She couldn't stop now. Her pulse was visible, her eyes were turned a shade of reddish white. No, she didn't seem to be in the mood to talk.

Noticing this, a few guys hurried up and set another punching bag up. Surprisingly, their shaky legs carried them back to safety. A few more guys came in and dropped the sand bags near her.

Seriously, she thought, I hate earth.