Verbal Photographs 4..

Her arms were bare and pale, she crossed them. Rushing to her car, fiddling with her keys her face was red.

They kissed quickly, she smiled and he looked away. He got back into the waiting car and fiddled with the radio, not noticing her glance back at him and smile even wider.

They giggled and spoke to one another in their own language; abbreviations and jokes they’d heard a thousand times.

I saw a cream colored rose pedal fall from her bouquet. It danced lightly against the dingy gray snow. Resting in the cool evening air, it was forgotten.

She ate gingerly, tearing pieces of her sandwich with her index finger and thumb. She placed each piece gently on her tongue and chewed slowly. Leaning against the chair, she took a sip out of a purple juice box, careful not to take too much she squinted at the nutrition facts.

A tiny pastel-pink balloon tangled in the dark branches of a tall tree.
She seemed angry, pursing her lips and shoving her hands in her shallow pockets. Flouncing out into the cold morning, dipping in and out of the crowd she disappeared into her day.

He had sleepy eyes, nodding off in the undersized desk. He slumped over to the left resting his chin on his chest, the muscles in his face were relaxed, and the skin over them was smooth and dark. His fingers were resting on his lap; they twitched as he started to dream.

The speckled linoleum was damp with puddles of dirty snow and slush. Each puddle was a piece of someone’s day, growing only to disappear.
He held his head in his hands stared into his lap he seemed sad. All alone at the end of a table, he is breathless, motionless, awake and confused.