At Least They're Committed

Stepping onto the bus, my attention was drawn to a striking young man, likely a decade younger, who was staring at me. So being the cool person I am, I sat down daintily and I tried to look sophisticated while casting a glance back at him to see if he was still looking and he was and I think I ended up drooling on myself.

So I walked home and it was hot and a few people honked but I was totally not in their way so I don’t know what their problem was and I ignored them.

The wind blustered. I watched my hair writhe around my head like the snakes of Medusa and I was glad to have my hair back. I often looked back over my shoulder at the periwinkle skies and the partial rainbow that simply just stopped in midair. It looked like a watercolor painting that had been hung before it dried, with the rains from miles away running through it.

I wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t beaten the rain but I seem to have nonetheless. In fact, I’ve beaten it by an hour now. In fact, I don’t believe it’s coming.