The wind hit her with an unexpected intensity. Arms crossed, she tried to break contact but it was too late. As the cold waves unabashedly progressed further down the buttons of her dress, she could feel the heaviness in the air condensing in her chest. Walking past the gleaming lights of designer stores and chic boutiques, she was suddenly aware of her inadequately dressed self — a stark contrast to the line of impeccable mannequins decked in the season’s best, their mocking glares beaming back at her as she tugged at her frayed polyster sleeves.
That materialities were immaterial, would be an assertion far too unblemished to digest. But it seemed like a good consolation for the time being. Life is not a balancing act, it is a trade-off in perpetuity. You’ve got to give some to get some — she thought to herself — and peace is just another bargain made along the way.
Back at the apartment, she dragged the day’s chaos inside and slammed the door shut. She didn’t quite know how to live without a burdened head and more so without a burdened heart — if anything it would make her emptiness more empty. Exhaustion tipping over, she crawled into bed and watched the little pieces of chipped paint dangle from the false ceiling above. It was getting harder to dream at night, with the infidelities of hope and time hovering around like sparkless fireflies. Trying to ignore the buzzing, she pushed further into the layers of forced oblivion and made another futile attempt to find some warmth between the tempered sheets of reality she was buried under.
I shy away when it comes to prose, gave it a try for a change.