City life had always fascinated me. Crowds of people rushing for public transport to arrive at a destination. There were some moments I stood there and created back stories of random people; where they were going, what lifestyle they lived and if they had a family or lived alone.
It sparked creativity and train of thoughts for short stories, poems or a character
I would love to create, inside and out.
I can remember this lady I saw. Her eyes were emerald green and curved
like a tear drop on its side. She was one of my memorable characters I created whilst waiting for my train.
I named her Yalein. Her wavy red hair fell below her shoulders and bounced on her back as she paced through the train station. She had always been in a rush after work. Everyday she walked the same path for the same train; the long black draping coat, wavy red hair and tapping high-heels. Her husband, Trent, was an abusive alcoholic. Her escape was work. Worked as long hours as possible to come home, abused of sleeping around or meeting up with other men. Trent never trusted her; Yalien didn’t care, only for their unborn child.
A few months went by; Yaliens belly grew, bruised eyes faded, arm-slings were used and replaced but her make-up was always done perfectly.
Until one day, she didn’t turn up. No echoing taps down the tunnel nor bouncing hair.
(This is fictitious based on no real people or events I know.)
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