She walked down the street, her eyes intent on the cheeseburger grasped in her hands. Her hair was tied into a messy bun at the back of her head, and looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. From a glance you would assume she was just another student, no different from the others rushing up and down between skyscrapers and traffic lights.
And perhaps you wouldn’t have noticed her on any normal day. She would blend in and become part of the animal that rushed at traffic like a crazed bull, or stood talking in front of stands in haggard groups. But you did see her, tomato sauce dripping in-between her fingers like webbing, her eyes cast down to gaze down at the cheeseburger and pavement alike.
It wasn’t that she looked like your sister, the one that you had buried last week. No. Your sister had scars the length of your ring finger wrapped around her wrists, jagged memories curled in circles along her collarbone. Sunken cheeks that had dipped long before her hope had fluttered out the window to lie lifeless outside dad’s door. No. This girl had something your sister had tried to frantically fan before dad closed the door behind him. She had a future.
How did you know that? How did you conclude that after a glance, as she licked her fingers? Because she smiled privately to herself and sang a few notes thrumming through her earphone. Your sister never smiled. Why were you staring at cheeseburger girl with a look of fear and wonderment? Because the girl had begun to sing. Singing out of tune and flat, but building up to sing as though she gripped a hairbrush in her hands. She wove in and out of the crowd, the other earphone dancing around her face.
You realised you wanted to sing with her. You wanted to slip the earphone jumping like popping candy into your ear. It didn’t matter what the song was, but you would be connected to her. You would be sharing in the cheeseburger girl’s life just that little bit. You could see her future, you could buy cheeseburgers with her and watch the tomato sauce dribble across your fingers. You could protect her, love her, put your foot in the door.
But you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You let the bright light ebb away into the crowd, her candlelight gone from sight. But then you thought. Why not? And you ran. You ran from the animal that held you and chased the cheeseburger girl.
But you couldn’t find her. You looked down streets and glanced at people’s faces. Then, as you turned to go home – just when you thought your chance was lost. You got on the bus, walking down the aisle to a backseat. And there she was, sitting in the seat you had chosen, and humming to a tune you hadn’t heard of before. You sat in the seat opposite her and smiled,
“Whatcha listening to?”
ns 172.69.6.160da2
and then Add to home screen.