Passing Glances

Passing Glances

First Person POV

Blurring streaks of water-faded color speed by me, making me feel like an ethereal being, that person looking in, a spirit that has escaped her chosen golem, watching from an outsiders' point of view the people that push and shove past me. The smell of expensive perfume and rich department store overwhelms my nostrils as a velvet-coated, pearl studded woman struts past me, invisible wind whipping around her, harshly slapping different passersby in the face as they try to plow on past the accelerated woman.

Even in my out-of-body experience do I feel apathetic, indifferent to the sweat-smelling, coarse-languaged, overstuffed, chime ringing bustle. The smell of warm cinnamon wafts through the air, gliding with the slight chilled breeze, rustling the hanging garland, twirling the emerald and scarlet ornaments, swaying the dangling crystalline lights and spreading the overall sparkle that seems to linger throughout the air.

I stroll through the merry Christmas crowds, bells tolling in the distance, my mouth parched with dry desert sand, even as the season's precipitation falls down in clusters, rendering each snowflake’s individuality useless as they stick together in groups as tightly as one would embrace their mother.

I trudge through the grayed, wet sleet that lines the sidewalk, squishing through the ridges of my rubber boots. My head is bowed down, as if in submission, but a sharp, authoritative voice tilts my head up.

The glass door to a trinket shop is open, a light bouncing off the polished shine. A tall man appareled in an Armani suit stands there with a sneer on his face, looking down at a shorter man with limp, blonde hair and flaming red cheeks, his expressions one of a small child who was thoroughly chastised.

The well dressed man snorts in condescending disdain and looks away from the pale, straw haired blonde. His icy gaze incidentally meets mine, a light chocolate brown meeting a lifeless emerald green, like a broken piece of murky sea glass, buffed and opaque. Many feelings thrill through me. Excitement.  Shock.  Instinctual fear.

His eyes are intense, the eyes of a hunter, a predator, a swirling mass of chocolate, mysterious and curious.  They search my own eyes, the windows to my soul. But he will find nothing there--even as I feel, I am still numb. My eyes are soulless, the shine of hope faded away, an open abyss of nothing, no lingering light, just an inky darkness, like the never ending fall to Tartarus, the haunting screams of Furies echoing faintly.

Unflinchingly, but with my heart pounding, empty as a drum, I turn away and continue walking on. On into the general populated mass, on into the stream and exhaust of the metropolitan, on into dreary days and weary months and tiring years, each more sorrowful than the last, each holding no significance, no meaning, no out of the ordinary to break my what is my now bleak normalcy.

lol I'm so sorry I allowed you all to read my failed angst. I hoped you enjoyed! ^0^