I once had a vision of this girl. She wore just black, and had fiery red hair pulled back into a trilby hat, that hung lopsided over the right side of her face. She was walking down the street, her hands in her deep coat pockets. Her pale skin shone ominously against her shadowy appearance as she walked from lamppost to lamppost, stepping in and out of the monotonous yellow light. She was looking down at the ground.
It had rained heavily this March. The day had held consistent rain, and it was only when it grew dark that the sky began to brighten. Stars peeked out behind buildings and a silver sliver of a waxing crescent moon hung over the rooftops. The pavement and the road glittered as though with thousands of tiny diamonds. Water dropped from window sills above me, from the lampposts, from the branches of the rare, awkward tree, peering over the road. It looked as though a heavy tide had just escaped the colorless city, leaving it drenched to the bone.
I looked back at the girl. She couldn’t see me here.