Moving along

She stubbed her cigarette, put it back in the empty Dunhill box and stared out the window. The trees zipped past her eyes, none of them staying long enough for her to feel its impact. She couldn’t see any of them either — her vision was turning hazy. Her eyes began watering — she wasn’t sure if they were tears of sorrow or just the speed of the wind gushing against her open eyes. She didn’t care anyway. It was too late. She felt cold little droplets of water splatter on her cheek — the skies comforted her. She saw the sun sinking into those dark deep clouds turning them all violet — a streak of lightning lit the already gloomily-jaunty scenario. The light bokehs danced and painted different shapes and sizes on the glass window as the bus moved along. She thought she saw a jiggly wiggly heart but it morphed into something she couldn’t really understand. Reality struck her hard just then echoing Tennyson’s lines in her ears, muffled by the wind.

For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.

Wiping her tears away, she decided to go on, forever without ever looking back.