Priya

December 23rd 2012

Snow is grey now, like ash and it burns the skin a little more than it should. Streets are empty save for the packs of wild dogs that formed together long ago when their owners had been taken. You can hear them now all feral like in their grunts.

Few people brave the streets, those that do make sure that their badges are shown.

I hunker down in a side alley and listen. To nothing. To everything. There were days back long ago when I wished for this. Total silence in my head when the only voice was my own and there was no one around to jostle it.

But that was before life was all about tinned vegetables and chasing sleep.

I hold my breath.

Sometimes, I chant my name over and over again in my head just to remind myself. But it sounds weird now, like a car alarm raging over and over again in the emptiness of my mouth, my street, my world.

The world seems so much quieter now and it's not for the first time I wish I hadn't waited so long.

The grey snow melts on my skin leaving angry welts as I wait.

The days seem so much darker now.