When time was upon itself in a busy city, there was a sky cloaked with green and grey. Sculpting over buildings and towers, poisoning the many inhales of buzzing and bustling people, but this was home. The city was known as the "city that never sleeps," and I don't think the city ever did sleep. The sun was always out it seemed. The night was prettier than the day because the lights from mountainous structures made of bricks and marble decorated the place with different intentions of height, shape, and width. Colours of reds, purples, and greens popping out of moving glass. Yellow cars rushing by sweeping hot air over hurried bodies. Screams of enjoyment and rage harmonise with sounds of vehicles and air vents. Cameras held in clammy, hot hands by prancing tourist, their smiles stretching ear to ear. A crying child adorned with brunette curls placed into sloppy pigtails. A single mulberry coloured, freckled girl sits on a rusty bench waiting for a bus, and this is where she'll eventually grow to have bags under her naive, blue eyes. A frantic mom a crowd away screams "Hannah!" As she unsuccessfully bulldozes visiting sojourners. I don't want to be here anymore, and that is sure. I don't want to spend my life watching my skin rot under the intoxicating and acidic sky of New York. I pulled my brown leather suitcase closer to my crunched up figure. My body only consumed one third of the portion of the taxi cab's sticky back seat, but still I felt cramped. As the car drove me further, I felt almost as if I was being saved. As if college itself was my saviour and my home was the predator of my prosperity. I glanced down at my blue jean-covered leg that was shaking at a constant, anxious rate. I drew in a long breath in attempt to release my nerves which I instantly regretted noticing that the cab smelled of mouldy cotton and stale cigarettes. Looking up, I saw the Driver's glassy eyes, eyes that would glance at me every so often through the rear view mirror, were now watching my movements. Collecting myself, I looked out the window. Creep.
"LaGuardia." The driver said as he drew in a loud sniffle. "You flying Delta?"
"Oh, yes." I replied tucking my loose hair behind my right ear.
"Right. Go through those doors." The driver said leaning his corpulent body in the direction of the double sliding glass doors under the 'Delta' sign while he pulled out the device that determined my payment.
"Yeah, how much?" I said opening my door and spilling out onto the spotted concrete sidewalk with my trunks.
"From Brooklyn to La Guardia." He paused. "$32 even."
"Great." I said shifting my head to look through the unrolled passenger side window. I popped a 20, 10 and two ones out of my coin pouch that I used for transportation money. "Here." I smiled.
Grunting, the driver with deep set brown hair and thick fibered, tan skin took the money without looking, rolled up the window, and started the engine. I stepped away from the black puffs coming from the yellow cab with the Nordstrom advertisement across the side. I pivoted on my heels and slung my oversized briefcase onto my bony shoulder. I grinned imagining this as the last time I would inhale this dirty air and smell the years of trash.
England. England was going to free me, give me a new beginning--a fresh start in a place where there are no annoying, loud-mouthed, over sensitive, unempathetic, stubborn, relentless, and calorie absorbent Americans.
