The deadened glaze never lifts from her eyes and I know better than to ask too many questions. I can feel the weight of her sadness permeating the air around us like a thick fog. She wears it gracefully- almost bravely, without any suggestion of self pity.
All I can offer are my words of reassurance, within the confines of the truth. It was a very silent evening altogether.
The first night.
I take in a hit of that wonderfully foreign air- it smells of some distant place I don’t quite recognize. That faint, elusive tinge that displaces me from reality for a brief second.
My thin coat wrapped tightly around me, I sink into the comforting anonymity and shed my memories one by one onto the filthy pavement. I welcome all of it- the tawdry scenery, women brazenly displaying themselves in neon lit doorways, the lecherous stares of passersby whispering half comprehensible obscenities. They paint over my consciousness, forming a bleak and murky vision.
I haven’t felt this sense of relief in so long.