City
by kayla fry
Photo by Molly Porter |
She loved the city. She loved the burning in her legs as she
rushed down the street. She loved the way her scarf never stayed where she tied
it. She loved the buildings leaning in around her. She loved the lights of a
million cars zipping past her and a million windows without curtains letting
the cold office lights shine out into the even colder darkness. She loved the
way each light made a dozen more shadows. She loved the wind that stopped her
breath. She loved the screaming, wheezing, shouting, screeching, deafening
noise that never stopped, never for a second. She loved the feeling of others’
shoulders pushing and suffocating and moving against her and never stopped,
never for a second. She loved the feeling of not being able to speak, to think,
to breathe, to do anything other than move and never stop, never for a second. She
loved the city, the city that rushed and stayed and leaned and shone and
shadowed and stayed and screamed and wheezed and shouted and screeched and
deafened and pushed and suffocated and moved and spoke and thought and breathed
and moved more, the city that loved, and never stopped, never for a second.
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Written at BCWC by Kayla Fry. 10.7.17
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