How long has it been?
Ten? Twelve? Maybe it was thirteen.
It's been so long that the past have all become a blur.
The streets seemed the same, except there was a lack of human voices in the air. The rumbling of machines, and wind howling past their windows, filled the silence.
Rain sprinkled on her umbrella. She took small footsteps in her slightly wet flats. The heel of her shoe pained the ankle of her left foot a bit; just like it used to when the weather was a little less than kind.
She must've recognized her.
The brief exchange of acknowledgement and hesitation was no mistake.
Her eyes were duller. The childish curiosity and brilliance existed no more.
The years of their youth. The times they've laughed and cried together. They have simply put them in the storage box of life, and kept it safe and dry in their memories.
There was no need to speak.
Utterance of words would just shatter fondness.
The train had long escaped her route of history, and line of vision.
Her eyes were beginning to fail her too.
People were still walking in and out of the same cafes and restaurants, ordering the same tasteless dishes and drinks.
Fresh produces were replaced by the frozen peas and corn. She remembered the hours they spent in those aisles, trying to find their supper.
The sky was tainted a little gray; the color past blue but not quite black. She began to really enjoy that shade lately. It made her feel like a poet.
She took a sharp left turn and climbed the steps to a set of brown doors.
She reached for the runner of her umbrella and pulled it back.
She sighed, wanting to speak a few words to comfort her aging soul, but she could only find the sound of silence to fill the thick, humid summer air.
She noticed one broken stretcher, barely holding up the rib.
Maybe it's time to throw this in the garbage. Or get it fixed. She thought.
She turned the bronze knob on the door.
Maybe she should've said hi.
Or... maybe next time.
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