A grey suit. Black shoes.
A grey skirt and grey jacket.
Looped arm in arm.
Casual strides make hard bottom footfalls against the hard grey of the walkway.
The sediment of snowfall drifts into the light under the lamp post. Empty cars line the cobblestone street with it reaching around the corner and into the black. The track marked by yellow light from the facade of shop fronts; their wedges broken by the endpoints of each building.
Their conversation is inaudible. She grabs the moment. Leaning in toward him, she lays her hand on his shoulder. Shaking his head in acknowledgement, they cross into the light. The imprint of lipstick strikes a sharp contrast against the grey tones of his lapel.
Trapped.
by malakhai jones
© Copyright 2016
Posted: 8/24/2016
uh-oh. I love how you build a scene.
Thanks, Vic!
Those first four lines read like jazz, man. I continually find myself digging your style!
Thank you, Nick! I greatly appreciate that compliment on my style. Thank you!
Anytime! Keep writing and I’ll keep them compliments coming haha