fictional prose: White flakes fell

White flakes fell. They slowly covered the grass, the rout iron railings, the concrete steps… They coated the tree limbs, the rooftops, the concrete steps… as she bundled up her jacket, zipped up her hoodie and covered here delicate fingers with her wool blue gloves. The wind whispered at first across the parking lot. It recovered the front of her car.

Everything was much more intense as she made her way to the train station. The sheeting fell stronger against the bared flesh of her body. Cold filling the depths of her lungs. Virgin serenity filling her lungs and she began to reconsider her day. She left her side buzz from her phone. For once… it wasn’t… what she expected, but it was what she hoped.

Transit was delay, as it would normally be, by a half hour plus at this point, despite no commentary on the platform. She shoved her hand in her jacket, held her camera in her fingers and turned suddenly toward the far steps on the platform. Shouldering her way through the oblivious crowd who refused to acknowledge her steadfast strides in their own egotistical ***.

About thedoormouse

I am I. That’s all that i am. my little mousehole in cyberspace of fiction, recipes, sacrasm, op-ed on music, sports, and other notations both grand and tiny:
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