Prose
she sat by the window her head leant on the wall, looking at all the people down below.. she wondered what they're lives were like and whether they felt as lost as she did. She watched them all for hours, the men with suits and umbrellas, the women with high heels and hard faces, the ones from the outside of reality who didn't belong... time passed and it got dark and the people departed, to their homes, to their loved ones, to the pubs and the bright places, shutting the dark out lest it creep into their souls. But still she sits, the moon light washes over her, she blinks and she breathes but she doesn't move. The street is empty now, the drunks and the lost teenagers have all gone. The pavement is wet and shiny it reflects in her eyes as they glitter unnaturally in the light. A tear spills slowly down her cheek but still she doesn't move. She is waiting, waiting for the people to come back, waiting for the light to return, waiting for time to move on, waiting for life to start.