Ficly

Lonesome

Feeling lonesome, she picked up her only belongings, and tossed them on her tired shoulder. Life had been unfair to her. Life had made an effort to kick her off her feet whenever it could. She had been a good person, facing toward the future, never looking back. Wanting only goodness for every person alive, for every soul. She had been tossed from each apartment she’d lived in or one reason or another. She couldn’t find work that stuck, even when she really tried. Somehow, it all fell apart. Thoughts had bombarreded her. She thought many times of prostitution, or selling drugs, or just doing something easily, never struggling. But she knew in her heart that was not her. SHe wanted to remain the person, with the same values.
An alley, in some huge city—she’d forgotten where— she stood. Her hands shook, the coldness of the winter night found her. She took a calming breath and sat next to a trashcan, smelling the air that should’ve smellt like freedom in America. But it was the smell of hatred from world.

View this story's 2 comments.