some fiction
as the girl walks past i watch her. i sip at my drink and pretend i�m not, but i watch her. to you she might be just another face in the crowd. but to me she breathes life into this cold and grey city. she dares, on a wednesday afternoon in the winter sun, to wear colour in a sea of black corporate uniforms and broadsheet newspapers.
i bet there�s a story behind the skirt she�s wearing. it�s red and a kind of tan colour. the colour of linen suits that rich men wear on boats in summer with brown leather shoes. you don�t just buy a skirt like that in a sterile mall in the suburbs. that�s the kind of skirt you can only get in milan or at a flea market in the east village. wherever the east village is. new york city according to sex and the city. i�ll probably never see it, so how am i to know it really exists.
like 2 million other people who pass through this city each day, she�s got white headphones seemingly glued to her ears. i�m dying to know what she listens to. she�s too well put together for commercial pop music. i hope to god i�m right. it�s almost too perfect that she would be listening to something that she had to import from, wherever. or something from a local band. friends of friends that she saw play at a pub in the more bohemian part of town two saturdays ago. or maybe she listens to something classic. i�d die if i grabbed her ipod out of her bag and found it full of the go betweens and the church.
i wait for this girl to walk past every day. the thought of seeing her and her colour and her life makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning. one day i�ll talk to her. i�ll figure out a plan where i accidentally end up next to her at the traffic lights, or at the cafe where she orders whatever the fuck drink that is that she carries with her. iced something. i�ve never seen her with a hot drink. and i�ve been watching her for months. every day it�s either coke or a grande soy decaf iced latte. no. i don�t give her enough credit here. i�m sure she�s simple enough for real caffeine and real milk.
about two weeks ago she cut her hair. it used to be long. and she used to wear it in a low pony tail. now it�s just above her shoulders and she wears it out. it�s chocolate brown and always so shiny. she�d have to use expensive shampoo to get her hair looking so shiny.
i�m going to follow her tomorrow when she walks past. that�s it. i�ve decided. they won�t miss me if i pop out. if anyone asks i�ll say i have to go to the bank or something. i�ll think of a good excuse. but no-one will ask. i wonder where she goes from here. she must work near by. i bet she�s in marketing. she looks creative, but not quite a ball breaker enough for advertising. so marketing it is. i bet she�s always nice to the work experience kids and has lots of photos of her and her boyfriend on her desk.
does she even have a boyfriend? now there�s a point. i never see her talking on her mobile phone. i don�t doubt that she has one. i don�t doubt that she doesn�t have a boyfriend either. how could someone that beautiful be without. i bet he does something where everyone can be proud of him. he�s a fireman i�m sure. and he has heaps of nieces and nephews who all call him uncle johnno and all call him their favourite.
this girl. this girl that i only see for about 30 seconds each day, manages to consume me more than anything in my life ever has. and she wouldn�t even know it. she has no idea that i even exist. to her i�m just another face in the crowd.
13/09/2006 00:57