Everyone dies.
Time is numbers.
When it hits zero - death
My life revoved around these numbers. It's above their heads, writtern in bold and structured
The tree above me was determined not to let the sun reach me, even if the rays touched everyone else. It kept me shaded.
That's what I thought anyways.
The city was bustling as always.
At least it gave me one kindness: Strawberry Milk.
A motorbike in the distance, raced against the wind- fast and reckless.
It grew closer. Closer.
The two people riding it had no idea one of them was going to die today.
I heard screams from the other side of the road.
A truck, out of control.
Damn drunk drivers.
I already knew what was going to happen.
The driver screaming,
The bikes shouting,
No one in control.
3...
2...
1-
A collision
I stood up, tossed the empty can away, thanked the tree and walked away.
The world's a stage and everyone, actors. That's what shakesphere said. He probably meant we all have roles to play and purposes to fulfill.
Honestly? I think we're all dumbasses who pretend and act to make our ideologies feel real, hoping some day it does.
Everyone has it different.
Ideologies. Dreams. Hopes. Delusions
Must be nice.
To be able to dream without ever considering that we may die tomorrow.
To be able to not know when people around you die.
To make friends. Friends.
I was about to question my whole existance again but something caught my eye.
A red thread.
Tied around a smooth hand.
"what's so special about that?" I asked myself.
Strange Man.
DING.
"Next station: Alocian centre. Please mind the gaps"
I got off the metro barely escaping suffocation from the crowd.
I looked around - hoping to spot him again.
Too bad.
"why am I so disappointed? I didn't even see the guy's face" I mumbled
I strangely felt hopeful. Something about that colour in between the grey suits and ties helped me face the day.