She held the lit cigarette in her left hand.
The black umbrella was in her right hand. Her dominant hand.
She flicked the cigarette into the street. Ashes falling onto the yellow line that is faded by wear and by time. Cars rushed by her as they took no notice to her presence. She took another drag off her shrinking cigarette. The overcast was gray and miserable considering it was Labor Day weekend. People with plans for barbecues and beach get-a-ways are most likely highly disappointed with the weather.
People around her ran to their cars in hopes of not getting wet. They ran into their car blasting the heat and rubbing their arms to create friction for heat.
Running like frantic ants as if the world was ending before their eyes. She smugly glared at these weak souls.
She took another drag.
She flicked more ash towards the pavement.
More cards rushed by her; oblivious to her existence.
People running around her trying to get into their cars. She began to imagine how these people would react if it was baseball-sized hail falling upon their heads instead of rain. She smirked at the thought as she took one last long drag off her tiny cigarette.
The bus approaches. She flicked the smoked cigarette towards to passing car. She climbed the small, metal bus steps and gave the driver her fare. He looked at her with kind, polite eyes. She wanted to gouge them out but instead replied back with a mannequin smile. She took her seat next to an old man who was wistfully looking outside his windows.
He began to mutter to himself. The bus driver pushed the stick shift into gear. The engine roared to a start. She sat in the back of the bus near the senile, old man. She looked at the windows watching the city zoom by her. She sat back in her chair reliving the vivid memories that she experiences only moments before boarding the bus.
She can still feel it.
She can still taste it.
She can still relieve it.
She didn’t want to let the memories go. She wanted to live in the moment forever. She smiled at that thought of it.
It’s funny how people act when confronted with fear. They almost revert back to infancy.
Crying. Begging. Wanting.
So childish.
The bus continued it’s route. She smiled knowing miles are growing behind her. She is leaving the past and summer behind her. She is only living them in her mind.
She couldn’t wait to get to her destination so she can take out a fresh, crisp cigarette from the pack as she thought about what she did in the city that she left forever.