Lost Tales of Kirev

Smudged

The teen in high heels walks off like a celebrity, holding Tiffany's hand. Emma scoffs, resting her chin on her hand on her knee, and wonders what Jess ever did to deserve someone who would hold her hand no matter how far she crossed the line. Tiff glances back just once before they're out of sight and Emma can start picking up her scattered journal pages. Some of her favorites were swept up by the wind and now rest in a puddle speckled with candy wrappers, sparkly ink bleeding. She knows they're beyond saving, but she tries anyway, pressing them flat on a graffiti-plastered concrete bench in the dim sunlight. The man sitting there shifts in his stiff striped suit, clears his throat and shakes out his newspaper, which has to already be out of date so late in the day. Emma starts to wish he would be curious enough to look down, just for a moment. She watches his eyes cross the page, and then leave it, staring not at the snippets of life story, but the girl with the dyed hair and thick eyeliner squatting next to him. She persuades her lips to form a smile. He leaves, folding the newspaper hurriedly. Heading for home, no doubt.