#4

A late night. No one was on the lonely side street as the woman plodded out of the innocuous brick building, tucked away from all the other brick buildings on the street like a baby swaddled in a blanket. She looked both ways as she stepped on to the bleak, well-worn sidewalk, doubly cautious in her state of exhaustion. She walked quickly past the various boarded-up stores, but with a slight halting motion that betrayed the determination required to move at such a pace, hampered by her thigh-high boots.

The few who passed by her did not catch the motion, avoiding any sense of contact after taking in the tattoo on her neck and the curly brown hair framing a tired face. Used to this, the woman avoided contact in the same manner, though each time she subconsciously looked up slightly, her blue eyes pleading for a connection, her pale lips barely parted in their repressed desire to speak. Yet, each passerby ignored her, and she struggled to shake off the sense of solitude that pervaded her whole world.

She arrived back at a quiet brick apartment complex, walking through an old wrought-iron gate to open up the door of the entirely dark building. She reached into her purse for her keys, glancing furtively left and right and spying no one. She unlocked the door as quietly as she could, walked inside and then closed the door quietly behind her. Her footfalls grew heavier as she slowly walked up the bare, stone, stairs, finally reaching an apartment on the third floor as she took out another set of keys.

She walked inside slowly and then collapsed to the floor. Slowly she undid the long laces on her boots, each second bringing further relief to her aching feet, until she slipped out of the boots, revealing a set of cute, pink, socks.

She stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, sleeping as Saturday night turned into the day of the lord.