Cold and Thirsty
Title: Cold and Thirsty
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A woman goes through the pacings of her daily life.
She woke up cold and thirsty from the pizza she’d shared last night. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty.
She walked along Madison Avenue and smiled at the dog that passed her by on the sidewalk, but she didn’t feel it. She walked into the grocery store and sat down on a bench by the cash register. She watched as various people entered the store, gradually filling the place more and more, until she wasn’t certain the bench would be hers much longer.
She was still kind of alone, even as the kids of the owners ran about, yelling in Spanish - “Compras? Gracias, senora.” They were young boys with black hair and big white teeth, and she loved them every morning she saw them. Their mother was a harried woman, older with a round waist and always after her son Ricardo - stuff she couldn’t translate, nothing she could understand.
She retreated back outside into the cold air - she could see her breath float out in front of her in big fluffy clouds. Her black boots made a nice, confident thump, thump, thump, thump, on the sidewalk. She’d always liked the sound. The rest of her was disheveled - her hair was frizzy and straggly and the same time, her coat was limp and brown, she felt like a bag lady or something. Her eyes were green as they ever were.
The train station was just ahead, and she entered just to watch the first of them all to leave the tracks. She left, heading for the deli.
She saw a man in a red hat pass her by - she smiled at him too. She never felt anything in her smile anymore, unless it was someone she was happy about. Of course. That made sense.
She spun around and headed for her apartment building. She passed the woman who liked to hang laundry outside her window, lingerie being the most prominent fixture. She tried to avoid any garments blowing onto her head.
She walked back in her front door, key in hand, and sunk back onto her bed. She couldn’t take it - she had a cell phone call to make and she was dreading it. Dreading to explain whatever the hell it was she’d done wrong.
Her story was bugging her. She didn’t want to write - she was afraid of one thing that she knew couldn’t possibly happen, but nevertheless was afraid of. She waited around a bit, had a bowl of Lucky Charms and a piece of toast. Brushed her teeth and hair. Doorbell rang. She answered - Jamal was there. She threw herself against his lips and buried her face onto his, their tongues colliding with each other inside her mouth. Her lipstick - she couldn’t care less. She slid her hands along his body, his chest, shoulders - she felt his hands by her breasts and shoulders, her neck, her hair, she pushed her tongue again and pulled herself even tighter to him. She needed this. This is what sustained her throughout the entire day. She wondered if he wanted toast, he got it himself anyway. His lips fit perfectly to her own, and she closed her eyes, just enjoying the stillness. Not the lecture she would receive from her neighbor.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A woman goes through the pacings of her daily life.
She woke up cold and thirsty from the pizza she’d shared last night. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty.
She walked along Madison Avenue and smiled at the dog that passed her by on the sidewalk, but she didn’t feel it. She walked into the grocery store and sat down on a bench by the cash register. She watched as various people entered the store, gradually filling the place more and more, until she wasn’t certain the bench would be hers much longer.
She was still kind of alone, even as the kids of the owners ran about, yelling in Spanish - “Compras? Gracias, senora.” They were young boys with black hair and big white teeth, and she loved them every morning she saw them. Their mother was a harried woman, older with a round waist and always after her son Ricardo - stuff she couldn’t translate, nothing she could understand.
She retreated back outside into the cold air - she could see her breath float out in front of her in big fluffy clouds. Her black boots made a nice, confident thump, thump, thump, thump, on the sidewalk. She’d always liked the sound. The rest of her was disheveled - her hair was frizzy and straggly and the same time, her coat was limp and brown, she felt like a bag lady or something. Her eyes were green as they ever were.
The train station was just ahead, and she entered just to watch the first of them all to leave the tracks. She left, heading for the deli.
She saw a man in a red hat pass her by - she smiled at him too. She never felt anything in her smile anymore, unless it was someone she was happy about. Of course. That made sense.
She spun around and headed for her apartment building. She passed the woman who liked to hang laundry outside her window, lingerie being the most prominent fixture. She tried to avoid any garments blowing onto her head.
She walked back in her front door, key in hand, and sunk back onto her bed. She couldn’t take it - she had a cell phone call to make and she was dreading it. Dreading to explain whatever the hell it was she’d done wrong.
Her story was bugging her. She didn’t want to write - she was afraid of one thing that she knew couldn’t possibly happen, but nevertheless was afraid of. She waited around a bit, had a bowl of Lucky Charms and a piece of toast. Brushed her teeth and hair. Doorbell rang. She answered - Jamal was there. She threw herself against his lips and buried her face onto his, their tongues colliding with each other inside her mouth. Her lipstick - she couldn’t care less. She slid her hands along his body, his chest, shoulders - she felt his hands by her breasts and shoulders, her neck, her hair, she pushed her tongue again and pulled herself even tighter to him. She needed this. This is what sustained her throughout the entire day. She wondered if he wanted toast, he got it himself anyway. His lips fit perfectly to her own, and she closed her eyes, just enjoying the stillness. Not the lecture she would receive from her neighbor.