Here I was, in an airport terminal, standing in a nice skirt with a rather charming blouse. I look all around there are pathways layered upon other pathways and I was in the middle. I have a bitchy friend at my side, and all I want to do is getting rid of her. Her hair is the color of the sand on the coast of the Pacific Ocean, as I wished mine was. She wore a blood red lipstick, and her bangs were cut short, smooth and at a slight, choppy angle.
I work at one of the shops in the terminal, and I'm there a little early, because everything's closed. I feel the need to catch a plain.
All of a sudden I'm running down my home street, and everything is damp, and the moon is out. I'm running from a child hood friend screaming, foaming out the mouth, and losing her mind. All the houses look like Vegas-esque architecture. Unoriginal, and boring. I scream out to my mother while I pass my old address. My mother throws a heavy, glass flower vase at my friend, and she screams like a dog that’s just been taken out on the back and put out of its misery. I look back as the impact hits the girl on the head, but I keep running.
I keep running until I hit the Edgebrook traffic, and I see the bright headlights of the passing cars.
