Siobhan

Alone. Dark, damp and cold in the alleyways of this city. The city that I call home, where everyone knows who you are and knows all of your secrets. They can read them on your arms and all over your clothes like an open book as you pass them by on the streets. The bell lamps were dimly lighting the way to the faint jazz music. You could taste the tobacco in the air, just like you could taste her cherry red lips. I came across her path in one of the passing alleys near a back doorway to a night club. I could hear the bustling of all the hot bodies, the crisp sound of brass, along with the sound of bubbling hookahs. This scene was something I hadn't encountered before, for I was too young to be invited in. But she didn't seem to care, she pulled me by the arm into the musty air and away we went. Without a care.