Work Text:
Down the street goes the girl, with heavy footfalls and untied laces.
In the cold of February, clutching her limp jacket at her side.
Always seeing, observing.
If the early moon is to be found up above in the sky, at five in the afternoon, she’ll know.
She notices the young birds perching on a landline, huddling close; as well as the grass that’s long since been withered.
With a certain solemness she crosses, not even looking both ways, but she watches out of the corner of her eye.
A front always put up, even when no one’s watching, that’s her.
Passing through the shadows to the calm pre-sunset light, a saturated yellow.
She unwaveringly walks, all the way home.