Whitestripe

The Tramp

The fiery orb woke me in the most annoying fashion when it  decided to poke its head above the horizon. I was less than pleased, it must have only been five or six in the morning. Regardless, I stood up and felt my whole body creak. My back was sore, and so were my legs from the hard ground. I wondered how long it would take to get used to it. After i'd stretched I packed up my sleeping bag and started walking. I didn't know where too yet.  This street was empty and even the little pub was quiet but if I followed my way down the street there would be cafes and more bars that would come alive at night with people and music. Right now it was quiet with the exception of chatty mothers who went to have a coffee and gossip about the other mothers who went to a different cafe while the staff talked about those mothers and how some off them were the most frustrating of customers. It was funny how the world works. Everyone's so fake and shielded.

I decided to take a seat outside the Latte Capo cafe to simply relax. Their chairs were comfortable, and I could have slept in one of them rather than on the ground. I closed my eyes, feeling the cold wind on my face. One of those high end group of women were sat a few tables across from me and I could hear them talk. 

"And I swear Jenny was downtown with him while her children were at school!" A high pitched voice squealed. Her words were followed by a series of subdued gasps as their leader continued the gossip. It bored me, their superficial talk of the unimportant, although my ears pricked when they noticed me. A more delicate, quieter voice spoke softly. I could only just hear her words.

"Look at that guy over there" She said. I could tell she was younger, probably in her twenties. "He's different isn't he?" I was interested to hear more, but a sudden onslaught of gossip exploded, as I guessed, they were looking my way. So oblivious to the fact that I could still hear them. The superficial  whine started up again and I opened my eyes, amused, watching her.

"What a tramp just look at all his bags. And what's with that white stripe in his hair, freak. He's probably perving on us. You know people like that are weird and should be locked up, those perverts." 

I laughed. She was hilarious! A tramp... I loved how she ridiculed me for  looking different.

I am a tramp now.

The words ran through my head, but I didn't mind them. Eventually I grew tired of the group, but I wondered about the girl with the soft voice. She seemed... different, to them at least. As their conversations progressed I learned she was the one with the choppy long hair. She wore no makeup and barely spoke unless something interested her, and usually it was something simple, like the patterns on the tablecloths or the texture of the food. Rarely did she become engrossed in the gossip. I decided I liked her but I wondered why she was with them. Half of the women must have been thirty, and the rest in their late twenties, it just didn't match. She was young. I stopped mid thought. Why was I thinking this through so much? I stood up, the chair screeching beneath me. I grabbed my bags and started to walk off. I knew the women were staring but I didn't care; I was angry at myself.  

Why?  I was acting like a stalker. I let the wind hit my body again, and by now the sky was again covered with its soft blanket of thick clouds. It was cool, and nice and I let the sensations set it. Eventually my anger subsided and I told myself over and over, the same thing.

You are bored. I was not a stalker, nor a pervert, nor was I creepy or messed in the head. Well, that's a lie. I probably was messed in the head, but it didn't matter. I was still me.