I was rockin’ a steady pace, making my way along the streets from one errand to the next, I networked my block like the smartest mouse on a mission to find the cheese. Successful in my navigation and timing I had completed my last stop ahead of schedule and was returning toward my humble abode for another night of playing peek a boo with my computer screen, avoiding the words I desperately needed to purge.
The last bit of sidewalk crossed an alley connecting the commercial and residential veins. There at the edge stood the sweet little dumpster girl, twirling a pink and purple lunchbox in her hands. Lost in her song, turning her face into the sides of her fuzzy lined hood, she was quiet and patient, pristine among her soot covered surroundings.
My eyes looked for an explanation, an answer to her presence, when they met the top of two heads peaking from behind the dumpster. In my approach it was clear what exchange was occurring. The patient girl waiting for daddy’s deal to complete, he not noticing that she could still see. It tasted disgusting, bitter and offensive.
I returned my eyes to the girl, she now observing me, locking our twos into four we spoke silently. We smiled, I felt stricken with how joyful her eyes still seemed and as I passed carrying my guilt for not knowing what to do, I asked love for her and I sensed she for me. A tear fell down my cheek and froze in the breeze that passed the end of our time and as it drifted we both left back toward our feet.
Inspired by the prompt ‘spoke’ at typetrigger.com