Hood

I have just arrived in this city, fighting the demons of my recent past, the pain of being alone again. I sit by the river having walked the streets all day, thinking about all that has been, all that was, my shattered life that I must now bring back together. It seems that the river matches my mood, the grey water is ruffled by small gusts of wind like the back of a cat.

I feel so desolate. I must return to the life before, my apartment empty of all memories of these last few years. I remember how she always told me to keep it, just in case, for a place to get away to. Now I see it as her first betrayal, my mind twists her sweet words into a plan that she laid out, a plan now fulfilled.

I sit here, chain smoking and hiding my red eyes behind dark sunglasses. I miss her. I look back and I don’t know what went so wrong between us. I remember all those days we spent in bed, talking, laughing, how we would wake and just lie there, comfortable in the silence. Even though we had different native languages, in those mornings we were in perfect understanding of each other. Now it all seems like a waste. I feel that I could have spent my time studying, furthering my career, or traveling. I lift my head to the sky, wishing it would pour with rain to empathise with me. The sky is grey, but I see black clouds on the horizon and soon it begins to pour down on my head. I feel stubborn, so I sit there, feeling the water seep through the layers of clothing I am wearing.

I watch as the people run down the street, trying to escape the raindrops. Their black umbrellas form a canopy, like the shell of a great beetle, scuttling along. I spot something bright in amongst them. The beetle clears and a girl is left, standing on the other side of the river in a red coat. The brightness of her coat shines through her drab surroundings. She turns to walk away through the crowd. I start out of my seat and before I know it I am running across the bridge to the point where she disappeared. I stumble on the wet cobbles, and my hand hits the pavement, skinning off the flesh on the palm. I rise, wrapping my stinging hand in my coat. I see a glimpse of her through the crowd and set off again. I reach the other side of the embankment and follow her down the street. She is ahead of me, walking slow, but the bettle umbrellas force me to move more slowly. She turns down a side street and I take the same turning. I am catching up to her, and I begin to question why I am following her, what do I hope to learn?

She turns again, back to a main street lined with jewerally shops. The crowd is like a machine, separating me from her. The umbrellas like cogs turn and I dodge the spiky ends, as if I am being crushed in this infernal contrivance. The girl shines like a light through the grey air. We stop at a crossing and I reach through to touch the hem of her coat, it is made of a rough wool, with a fur trim on her hood. The crowd parts a little and I am almost standing behind her. I don’t know what to do. Then the crowd moves forward again and I loose hold of her. I stop and watch her cross the road, walking away, never aware that I was there.