It was hot, under a dry and searing sun which burned with unexpected intensity.
She walked with firm purpose across the bridge.
Her feet clad in flat soled shoes, head bowed, brow furrowed, looking down at the floor, perhaps avoiding the bright afternoon sun.
Or, perhaps, avoiding something else.
In her right hand, she held her smartphone, with a strong grip. She held it close to her body. So close, it suggested something.
Her expression implied worry, fear, a mind distracted and expectant.
The wires trailed from her ears. The message she heard from the voices in those small speakers creating a feeling of dissonance.
The world she knew. Not the world she listened to with a sense of longing mixed with fear.
In her left hand, she held those important things, the things she had spent all morning searching for.
The papers that might make all the difference.
Her eyes seemed dark and tired.
As if, she held a secret.
That they must never know.
The papers would tell her story.
(for wordpress writing 101 – day eight)