My head aches with the underlying thought of revulsion from those who pass by.
Suddenly, the approaching reverberating screech of train wheels coming into contact with the rusted railways above silences everything and transcends the jarring, loud cacophony below. For a few seconds, the world stands still. The panoramic time-lapse of the city pauses. Absolute serenity, only for it to die at the end.
My eyes roll up to witness the sky above as it slowly transforms into somber tufts of wool. With the wool progressively knitting itself together until not a patch of light is visible, the dense blanket of grey would begin to engulf everything underneath. Gradually declining, it starts decapitating the heads of buildings, steadily devouring the abundance of bricks that have been so systematically arranged. On the horizon, the hovering dot in the sky ceases to exist, as it conceals itself behind the billows of wool up above. Nature’s blow intensifies as a hallowing wind gushes through the streets, drifting everything apart. Shuddering, I clutch the blanket tightly as the sudden wind slaps me. The world appears shades darker.
Yet something seems to project out of this darkness. Towards the left is a girl, barely even capable of walking on her own, positioned in the midst of the swarm of workers. Her eccentric, purple skirt alongside her glitter-decorated shirt attract those who pass her – a lavender star illuminating in the celestial shadows of space. Her jagged breaths come to a rest as she finds a balance in her breath and footwork. Behind her, a crowd of suits begin assembling, their satin-fabric sleeves nudging against one another in order to overtake the girl. But despite all this clamor, she remains oblivious to the commotion around her, and instead merely tucks her blonde locks behind her ear.
Its stem feels fresh against the wrinkles of my fingers as I retrieve it from her. Laying it flat, I sense its youth absorb into my skin, its natural aroma permeates the air around me, and its velvet petals caressing the throbbing blisters of my palm. Its aesthetic is far too pristine for the concrete jungle around it. But I keep it.
A fortuitous smile emerges around the cracks of my lips, accompanied by a tear trickling down the edge of my cheek. I look up to find the girl missing, carried away by the spate of civilians. Gone.
I gaze up and witness the blanket of grey suspended above buildings moderately altering into a black sheet of space. Warmth emanated from the lamp lights along the street, its mellow hues radiating across the asphalt on the road. The havoc of pedestrians had perceptibly died down as vehicles lay depleted of energy, exhausted, back in their homes. I lay tranquil, free from the disturbances of the world, until an unanticipated piercing shrill breaks this tranquility. Clutching the stem of the flower, I drop my eyelids, letting the evanescent hymn of train tracks resonate through my ears.