A whiff of smoke. Long curls caressed by the wind. Hazel eyes. Slender nose. Pink lips greyed by the smoke. Long neck. Beautiful palms. Crop Top. Flat Stomach. Denim Shorts. Sexy Legs. Blue sneakers. Quite a sight she was. Breathtaking ; almost too perfect. On the inside she was just like everyone else. Confused. Lost. In search of peace. Suddenly clouds gathered and the sky shed its tears. She loved getting wet in the rain, but it extinguished her cigarette. She was an adrenaline junkie. Her ride was a magnificent Harley. Perks of being her rich daddy’s daughter. But nah, she bought this one herself. Whenever it was cool enough, she would ride it to her heart’s content.
‘All we need is somebody to lean on’ , was playing at the pub where she got off. Dripping wet, beer in hand, on to the dance floor. That’s how she was. She didn’t care much. A guy noticed her, they grooved together for a bit. The beer was over , and so she left. She came home, and changed into a fresh pair of shorts and tee. Made herself some coffee and switched on her laptop. Hmm, what to write next, she thought. The company was waiting for her next chapter. Maybe she would write that new senior into her book, who she really liked. That was settled.
She wanted to be like Carrie Bradshaw. She had the looks and the writing skills. Definitely a good taste in fashion. Then something weird happened.
The lights went out. The wind became faster. The door rattled. She knew it was coming. The spirit of her dead mother. She was not scared of it. She was used to these visits now. Whenever she was naughty her mother would come and scold her. Today she had gotten wet in the rain. Her mother was smiling at her, she said, sweet girl, what if you catch a cold? I hope you have hung those clothes for drying? She nodded. Her mother kissed her on her forehead and left.
Now that was done. She lay in bed, content with the events of the day. Soon she was asleep. She woke to her favourite crush’s good morning. ( haha that same one she wrote about.) They had tea and cigarettes together. Nice morning it was, cool after the rain. Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all. She had her Harley, her people, and her writing. That’s all she needed. Almost perfect. Almost perfect was good, perfection is boring. She looked at the sky and smiled, at her extremely good luck. Maybe it was going to be a good day.