ar vitsi

“Just shut up; I don’t know what you want anymore.”

She shut the door behind herself. She took off her jacket and hung it up, not that it mattered. She unzipped her boots, not that that mattered either. Chunks of mud fell onto the floor as she pulled violently on the heel of her left shoe and nearly fell on the floor. She flung her bag and her scarf onto the bed and rummaged through scraps of paper and candy wrappers in her purse to find the one piece of paper that mattered. Dialing numbers on her phone, she hesitated before pushing send, because what would she say anyway? And after she got the courage, the phone just rang and rang.
It was useless.
So she pushed aside the garbage that had accumulated on the bed and lay on her back staring at the ceiling.

After god-knows how long, and a few mindless wanders to check to see if the fridge was still empty, she walked down the street. People were speaking in languages she couldn’t recognize. People were telling kids to stop running. Old women were lugging bags bigger than themselves. And she had nothing but the cold breath fogging the air in front of her and disappearing.