@martin-boyle
The warming comfort of her friend’s couch had long been abandoned in the process of required exchange for an idle stroll through the nocturnal streets, on the pavement of the Canadian metropolis. Movies and videogames in the wake of an exhausting evening class. It was just a brief venture of few minutes, down toward one of merely countless shops whose sign still pointed to a word counting four letters inviting entirety, during the top of a blue day’s late hour. When the sky above was imbued with a dark tincture, leaving tiny spaces for the light of stars, likely long dead in the instant she gazed up.
Sterile neon sources of blinding light were evenly distributed within the organized aisles aligned inside the small shop’s confines. No corner offering public solitude of an metaphorical cave inside a shadowy nook, no place to hide in the slightest shade of darkness imaginable to the limited expertise of the mundane human mind. A six-pack of soda was balanced on her lower arm, chocolate hued eyes observant, as her mindless saunter furthered her approach of the counter, to find her feelings’ reflection in the dulled expression riddled within the young cashier’s glazed eyes. A turn, looking for her friend. “You got everything?”
