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Who follows a dream?

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She'd been disgusted with just about everyone and everything that night. The city that had once, from it's crystalline skyline and spinning glow of vibrant, bustling life and opportunity, promised her so much more. Each face she'd seen had welcomed her warmly, sweetly, through the door to nothing in particular. People and places twirling 'til she'd grown giddy with naivety, an ocean of sparkling champagne bubbles, popped their last.

The big city. Maybe it was too big for her.

Somehow, she'd wound up somewhere in the fray. She waited tables, acting super grateful for the sprinkling of spare change offered by the greasy hand and lusty leer of some old letch. She recalled her aged manuscripts. Coffee ringed, smoke yellowed tortured remnants of a childhood dream, to produce and act in the play of her dreams. Of a young girl creating her story of falling in love, bringing it to life and living through it.

It was laudable that night, staggering from carriages in the early hours, too drunk to see or care one face from another. Go out not to meet but to avoid, to escape. Forget impressing, just find a willing body for another night, anticipate another bottomless pit morning, full of day of juice, mewing cat and wanting life away.

At her heart, her heart spread like thin butter, she yearned for reality, the safety of settling down. Envied the steel wall of daily peace, security, a suit, a nine to five, monthly goals, the pay-cheque she'd so spurned in her youth. She'd not known it was 6am, but she found a pretty face and sat as close to him as she could. A nice man, tall, bags under the eyes. Would have taken on the world if it hadn't taken him on first. Hair combed hastily, deep breaths, not sure where to turn amongst his passengers.

He, on his way to work, the daily grind that felt eternal, wishing he could break from his shell, find his dreams. Her, dreams become nightmares, having tried to drink the pain away. Between them both still tall dark and gorgeous through their lives' unique pain, two fragments of a broken heart. Wordlessly, they joined hands across the carriage, as if they each knew. The stories of their lives were told through flickering eyes. Each yearning to find love, meaning, the need to do the right thing, not knowing whether to join together, swap places, or flee each other, a mental dance to last an age.

His stop. He stood, he walked, he disembarked. As her head fell to her hands, awaiting her own heavy, desperate sobbing return to reality, she spied a business card dropped from his jacket. As if she had the will left to follow a dream, she mumbled aloud. In another world, she would have left her own card.

Reviews

[Maya]

A breathless emotional roller coaster. I love your style, you're a brilliant observer, yet very tender at heart! Keep up the good work :)

[apennylate]

Wow... This was chock full of grappling imagery... You are are a real pro at story-telling, eh? In another world... Heart spread like thin butter... A staggering read, mate... A mental dance to last an age...