Tomato boy and his accomplices
Mika | Fear girl
Mika
[The Fear Girl]
She's more afraid than usual.
She tells herself she's afraid of the needle still lying on the ground- Glinting somehow in the smoggy street, maliciously. One drop of blood hangs poised delicately in the balance on the tip and weather it falls or not seems terribly important all of a sudden. She stares and wills it not to fall, wishes it to stay, to hold onto it's life, to not commit the suicidal fall to the pavement. She focuses all her attention on the blood, trying to keep her mind from wandering to speculating, to imagining what the screech of tyres and the yelling and the wails of the ambulance around the corner where Edgar just disappeared to all mean...
She knows what it means of course, somewhere buried in her subconscious. But as long as the blood hangs, suspended in time, nothing in her life will change. No progress, no hurt, no sadness, no loss.
Something moved out of the corner of her eyes and she glanced irritably to see who was coming her way. The kid- he couldn't have been more than 15- with crazy jet hair which looked like it hadn't been washed since slice bread was invented gave her a shy smile. She was almost tempted to smile back but he was staring straight at her, she was sure he could see more than he was letting on, his eyes were boring holes into her, straight through her, burning her, the needle, the drop, was it still-
it was still there, clinging precariously to the needle.
Until the youth lazily walked past and kicked it with his foot and it fell, fell to the cracked pavement, growing, spreading, dying. Her calm, her clarity was broken and she cried out to his retreating back with an anguished sob.
He turned around and fixed her with a strange stare.
"Hey, you might want to go around the corner, I think your friends' hurt."
[The Fear Girl]
She's more afraid than usual.
She tells herself she's afraid of the needle still lying on the ground- Glinting somehow in the smoggy street, maliciously. One drop of blood hangs poised delicately in the balance on the tip and weather it falls or not seems terribly important all of a sudden. She stares and wills it not to fall, wishes it to stay, to hold onto it's life, to not commit the suicidal fall to the pavement. She focuses all her attention on the blood, trying to keep her mind from wandering to speculating, to imagining what the screech of tyres and the yelling and the wails of the ambulance around the corner where Edgar just disappeared to all mean...
She knows what it means of course, somewhere buried in her subconscious. But as long as the blood hangs, suspended in time, nothing in her life will change. No progress, no hurt, no sadness, no loss.
Something moved out of the corner of her eyes and she glanced irritably to see who was coming her way. The kid- he couldn't have been more than 15- with crazy jet hair which looked like it hadn't been washed since slice bread was invented gave her a shy smile. She was almost tempted to smile back but he was staring straight at her, she was sure he could see more than he was letting on, his eyes were boring holes into her, straight through her, burning her, the needle, the drop, was it still-
it was still there, clinging precariously to the needle.
Until the youth lazily walked past and kicked it with his foot and it fell, fell to the cracked pavement, growing, spreading, dying. Her calm, her clarity was broken and she cried out to his retreating back with an anguished sob.
He turned around and fixed her with a strange stare.
"Hey, you might want to go around the corner, I think your friends' hurt."