Search.
Look.
Find.
The train's steam clouds the platform
Her bags are light in her hands.
One is big
One is small
One is green
The other is purple.
Confusion clouds her vision
A constant searching for something
A constant struggle against emptiness.
Her bags, light as they are, contain nothing.
Yet they should
Yet they must.
There is no time to waste
She must quicken her pace.
For the urge to find
Is quick on her mind.
Faces.
Familiar.
She knows them yet they have no name
Sees them yet they have no face.
But how can one, in a place of familiarity
Be so lost?
They look distressed
Not at their best.
As if they too search for something
As if they too cannot discover their purpose.
Their bags are empty yet they know not what to fill them
with.
And in that moment
A man stopped before her
Studied her face and asked:
"Do you know him?"
Jax
YOU ARE READING
The Antithesis Protocol
AcakSo, i stole this concept (in)directly from @inconvenient Its a collection of random thoughts thrown into something I consider to be mildly coherent. *DISCLAIMER* by stole I mean I originally saw the concept of this style of writing from @inconvenien...
