Window On The World

Another window chapter.

Outside, the rain has stopped, its anger, ebbed. Now I watch the street and the few passing people. They do not see me, they do not even look. I think they are scared to look up from the concrete and from the ends of their shoes, scared they might catch sight of themselves reflected in the hundreds of glass shards that litter the edges around the gaping holes of old shop windows. The broken glass has been pushed away against the walls, out of the way of passing feet and blankly staring eyes, but no one has bothered to take it away, to get rid of it. What’s the point? It’s not hurting any of the grim-faced men and women who tramp through town, and there ain’t no children to worry about getting themselves cut on the sharp edges. All the children are dead or grown.

 

Inside, nothing has changed.

 

Reviews

[Eira Anchor]

what's going on?

[Beatrice Mars]

again, loved it, i can just imagine everything...i love the way you write...