November 27, 2006 at 6:20 pm 1 comment

She sat in the booth closest to the door; her newspaper turned to the help wanted section and spread out before her. A cell phone and a pen completed the picture of a young woman looking for work. In the time I was in the restaurant she never looked at the paper, or picked up the pen, or called anyone. Maybe she had already done all that. Maybe she was psyching herself up for the phone calls she’d need to make. Maybe, but to me it looked like she was just… waiting.

She looked out the restaurant window, not appearing to register the cars or people streaming by the window. Her long red hair was pulled back from her face with a rubber band. The ten or so small gold earrings and diamond studs in her ears told me she was probably somewhere in her twenties. She wore a loose fitting top over yoga pants. Blood was staining the soft gray fabric on her leg and soaking into her running shoes, making a small puddle on the floor of the diner.

I paid my bill and left.


Entry filed under: Fiction.

RoadID The Internet Landfill

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Christine  |  November 28, 2006 at 11:07 am

    Wonderful, dude! Write more.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

My Flickr Photos

%d bloggers like this: