She was looking into the dirty waters of river Thames, bending over bridge’s dirty racks. Her hair was falling down, being thrown all directions with the cold wind. One could not see her eyes. Only her red nose was popping up. Red as a berry. The waters did not seem to care at all. Just a gray, moving slowly, huge pile of connected closely drops. Not alone, not single. Only if she could be such a drop.
She stood back up, took a swift at her wet nose and showed her face to the cold. It was wet as well. She wouldn’t bother to touch her tear marks – she felt assured, knowing they were there – like jewels, proof of recent struggle, marks of her new wisdom.
She walked back home, hugging her clothes tight, trembling from iciness. It was almost dark. As she put foot after foot, she could hear melody, and she could see shine to the street stones – covered in water and shredded leaves: they were munching back. Black night was approaching. At least she had the woolen scarf from Rob. Yes, again him.
She managed to get through the doorway unnoticed. Mrs Bun would be mostly having an unhappy day tomorrow otherwise. She was sleeping – what a relieve.
Dora ran upstairs quietly, closed the door and started on prepping fire for the tea. Her hands uncooperative.
“How nice would it be to come into a warm home?” – she thought.
But this was something she let go, so she could be free. Tough choice to make at her age.
The wooden pieces and paper bursted into flames. She took 2 big pieces from the corner behind fire stove and added them in. It was the most beautiful view. The warmth was pouring through her body and she felt Karina, down by her legs. She took her up and heard the happy sounds of deserved pleasure.
“Where have u been all day?” – the cat was asking.
“I have been deciding on living” – she said. – “And I chose to sink the donut”.
Cat was reassuring she made the right call. And she was relieved, not happy yet. For happiness she needed time.
This post was sponsored by word and tag
#freewriting. It was written some time ago, inspired by a scary toilet story on Instagram. Funny are post’s ways to come into light.