The air is always freshest after it rains. It clings to my sinuses, delightful, clean, cold… alive! My senses play with the scent, frost kittens toying with icy yarn. Since I first streaked through our front door in my panties to live them, I know these sensations! They are my friends, the friends my body holds dear. …has always held dear.
My heels click with little skids, sandpaper hydroplaning on the wet pavement and I can hear. They remind me of my solitude among multitudes. It’s solitude I sought here. Do I seem strange? When I need to be alone, the city’s streets are my quiet room. Where else can I be so remote?
No one here sees me. No one here knows me. I walk in peace, no thought to detain me, no infiltration into the territory that was always rightfully mine. I watch them in their grey ritual and I smile. I smile because not one of them ever thinks it!
…that they do not know me.
© 2011 Anne Schilde