Here's me rushing again to get my Five Sentence Fiction in before the opportunity passes, because this weeks photo and word are too good to miss. And talking of missing, this reflects me missing London life.
She stood in the middle of the station concourse and let
them all rush around her; thousands of them, going and coming, all with such
purpose; their strides long and fast, some buffeting her, a few tutting at her
deliberate positioning – in their way.
She could feel them, their energy, and she sucked it up,
wishing she could pull it in and thrive on it, give her some purpose, some
direction, some focus, but no such luck; they took it with them to spend on
their day and she would be left here alone, wondering.
What was it like to know who you were, where you were going,
what you were doing, what you were worth, and how you were going to spend your
life?
In that moment they all looked like they knew, although she
was sure it was just an illusion, dressed up in suits and briefcases.
They might look like they had somewhere to go everyday,
somewhere to be – even someONE to be, but inside many of them felt just like
her: drifting.
This is wonderful; very poetic. If you hadn't been going for five sentences, I think the story actually ends with perfect clarity at the end of the fourth sentence. You really don't need the fifth at all. Excellent use of the prompt.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jayne, and do you know, I felt the same when I wrote it!
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