she was wandering through the other side of her neighbourhood. rain poured lightly on her favourite hoodie. it didn’t seem to bother her that much. she continued to walk going farther from the edge of her familiarities. she saw no living entity across her path. all was asleep, not a surprise at this hour of the night. a bench was fading into view from the thick fog forming because of the weather. the soles of her sneakers squeaked through the absolutely silence of the street and rain. the scent of asphalt rose to her nostrils. she felt the cold black rails of the bench under her skin. a cold shiver ran through the back of her spine. this time, a few months back.
a few months back.
a truck passed by on a night similar to this one, but with no rain. it wasn’t an ordinary truck. but a trash collector’s truck. it did not contain putrid scents also, strange as it seems, it did not smell at all. it was mysteriously clean and white. it could easily be mistaken for a street sweeper’s truck if it did not have a huge chute sticking at the back that mutely scoffs air.
throw it away
keep it & try to fix it.
she chose to keep it. she tried to fix it.
a few months later.
… she felt the cold black rails of the bench under her skin. a cold shiver ran through the back of her spine. maybe, she thought, just maybe, she should have thrown it away. at least that way, those memories would have been of what it was before it broke.