A hood covering her eyes, she walked staring down at the grey cement blocks laid out before her. She walked with uncertainty, unsure if the ground was stable enough for one whose mind was heavy with worries and troubles. The thunder exploded again, causing her to jump a little. She looked around. Through the veil of the heavy rain she could not see a soul in sight. The sky seemed angry. Thunder was rumbling, and lightning was streaking across its surface. She could hear the pitter patter of the rain as it struck the earth and then came bouncing back to rest in a black puddle of water. She saw the only shelter in sight, the bus stop. Its quaint little metal bench seemed like the perfect refuge. She stepped into it, it smelt like rusted metal. The sound of the rain was stifled by the see-through glass walls. She sat on the bench putting her suitcase beside her. She laid her head against the cold wall and took a deep breath. Pain shot through her body, her throat was exhausted from crying perhaps. A face on the poster in front of her glared at her accusingly. As if it could see right past her grey-green pupils and into her mind. She turned away.
It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun smiled from behind the selfish clouds, which covered the entire sky. She went home early that day walking with a spring in her steps. Her dark, raven colored hair was flowing freely across her face. She couldn’t wait tell him the news. They wanted her, she could hardly believe it. She had worked so hard this past year. He had slept, ate, and breathed her work. She couldn’t wait to tell him. She was in her own world as she walked along the road, unaware of the vibrant life that surrounded her. Trees had begun to bloom, green splashes on the new summer canvas. Her hands were trailing along the fence, she wasn’t reaching home fast enough.
The thunder rumbled again causing the glass to vibrate. It snapped her out of her thoughts. The metal smell began to fill her senses, it was revolting. She took her soaking wet hood off. Her dark hair was now matter against her skull. She felt the pain in her throat again. She knew it wasn’t from her tired throat. She lifted her hand to her neck. She could feel the clotted blood along the line on her neck, from a sharp knife. She touched a sore spot and the pain overtook her once more.