Hi, this is just a short story I am piecing together in between my time spent on "Cursed". I am attempting to practice a simplified form.


There is a woman. She wears a red rain coat. It is not raining. She does not notice this.

She holds a plastic bag in her hand. The plastic bag contains one pack of Marlboro cigarettes, an Arizona Ice Tea, and a Reese’s candy bar. She does not notice the weight of the bag. It weighs the same every day.

The woman unwittingly stands out.

She does not stand out.

The woman rests under a metro. She takes one cigarette from the plastic bag. The smoke curtails beneath the station.

The bus arrives. The woman joins others. The bus driver rolls his eyes. She does not notice this.

The woman sits alone. Her raincoat squeaks. The others glare. She does not notice this.

The bus moves. The woman does not. She waits. The bus stops. She waits. The bus moves.

She notices others. A man walks his dog. Children giggle as they are herded to school. Their backpacks shine like woven fish scale. A dead squirrel lies speared upon the iron point of a fence. It’s guts dangle across the bars.

The bus stops. The woman departs. The woman is sad. She does not notice this.

She walks two-and-three-quarters city blocks. Her heels clack across the uneven granite sidewalk.

The woman walks to her bench. She does not own this bench. There is no title. No plaque hangs on the wooden backrest. The bench remains hers.

Cars slow. Some stop. The woman smokes.

The day fades. The woman prays. She eats a piece of her chocolate bar.

The woman no longer sits. She paces. Her red raincoat is removed. The woman wears something underneath. Tinted windows with obscure faces pass.

A man asks her name. She chooses Autumn.

Another man gets Clover.

The woman giggles at her game. She smokes. She eats another piece of chocolate. She smokes again.

The night is late. The woman walks to the bus stop. She takes out a cigarette.

The bus stops. The bus driver rolls his eyes. She does not notice this.

The woman returns her remaining cigarette to the pack gently. She sits alone. She drinks her tea. It is warm.

The woman whispers her name quietly to the bus seat.

“Melody.” She says, “My name is Melody.” The seat does not respond.

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