Wonders
a little drabble.
.wonders.
He watches her, and wonders what she’ll look like as an old woman.
Her face would be softly sagging and creased like crushed tissues. Her hair, gunmetal grey. Her veins mining through her arms, bending along with her like soft blue pipe-cleaners. Her arms would be the colour of milk mixed with dirty puddle water. Her dimples indistinguishable from the dents Time has chipped into her cheeks. The bits of youth in her smooth face will have slid away; as easily as if she were a snowman who has accidentally drank hot chocolate.
He knows he won’t live that long.
How odd, he ponders, to think that he’ll never know more dead people than alive.
.wonders.
He watches her, and wonders what she’ll look like as an old woman.
Her face would be softly sagging and creased like crushed tissues. Her hair, gunmetal grey. Her veins mining through her arms, bending along with her like soft blue pipe-cleaners. Her arms would be the colour of milk mixed with dirty puddle water. Her dimples indistinguishable from the dents Time has chipped into her cheeks. The bits of youth in her smooth face will have slid away; as easily as if she were a snowman who has accidentally drank hot chocolate.
He knows he won’t live that long.
How odd, he ponders, to think that he’ll never know more dead people than alive.