VITA [2021 UPDATES]

A DIME

      It sounded like a thousand bees were nestling inside her brain.

      They relentlessly drilled and hummed; their wings beat against the frigid, salty air. Her chapped lips pressed themselves together in a thin, neutral line.

      Over – or perhaps under – the sound of the decrescendo, important people at an important dinner party (“Congratulations on opening the new orphanage!”) laughed daintily and tapped their glasses in cheers. But even past that, frat boys chanted about ancient Roman tunics as if they were warriors demanding higher food rations. Further still, girls giggled and cell phones blared their robotic melodies.

      Now it sounded as if all the air in the world was being sucked out by an enormous vacuum.

      Slowly, her eyes opened.

***

      Sobbing.

      Deep heaving and high-pitched whines reverberating from the wall on her left.

      They sounded small, uncertain, embarrassed.

      The rusty hinges of her neck creaked as she slowly turned her head to watch him cry.

      It was like watching a tiny rowboat struggle over waves and ocean currents, his body bobbing like the splintering wood and his curly hair left tossed by the unkind breath of giants.

      Upon catching her eye, the boy inhaled sharply, his eyes watering again. She remained unemotional. Unmoving.

      There was something in his defeated eyes that made her feel almost sorry for him.

      The boy sniffled once more, much like an injured puppy, and he scrambled to his feet in a childlike manor, his worn red shoes slipping on a few pebbles.

      It was only when he pulled her from the ground that she remembered she was laying like the horizon.

      With a steady hand, equipped with long, dainty fingers, he brushed off her baby blue dress as best as he could. Dried leaves peppered her blonde hair, dust and tiny concrete pieces peppered her legs.

      He dared not touch her there.

      What he did, however, was most strange and remarkable.

      He took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze (which was maybe a little more for himself than for her, because he sniffled again), and started to lead her from the blue-brown alley.

      Hand in hand, him leading, her following, they began to walk among the nocturnal. 

***

      The very pavement they walked upon vibrated as huge, angry buses roared by.

      Sniffle.

      Women on corners with silver tongues offered whispers of entertainment to lonely, well dressed men.

      Pip.

      One woman clopped down the street in cherry red high heels, her phone already dialed to the police, ready to hit “send”, keys in between her fingers like a bank robber unsure of his gun.

      Deep breath.

      Stray animals searched for a clean puddle to drink from.

      It was then that she glanced at her wobbling reflection and noticed their matching injuries. Identical bruises, scrapes, some that were even scabbing over already. Pomegranate seeds in vanilla ice cream. She stared at the hand she was holding. Slightly clammy, however not unwelcome.