People, Random

Waiting

The security guard passes by. Her uniform was typically ill-fitting. Her pants ballooned unnecessarily and had an iron-induced sheen. Her shirt seemed to be a pale shade of gray. Her nails though… Those were neon green. Like a shout in a funeral, or ice-cream on a dying man’s tongue. Her face passed me, unchanging.

The four men behind her came into view. They sat in front of the Chinese food outlet. I couldn’t decide if they were Chinese, or Philippinos, or something else all together. Their skin seemed to have learned melanin by force. Their eyes looked at everything. Everything. Twice. I wondered if the Chinese food they ate here tasted like home, or just a cheap knockoff. Perhaps it tasted like nothing because they were in a place that meant nothing to them. Who would I be in their land? Burned and lost? Or happy? The meal was over and they were relaxed now. Eyes no longer roamed endlessly, but squinted amidst laughter and lighter postures. The day’s hours were well behind them for the moment. Indeed, the week, too.

As for me, I sit in a shaded corner awaiting his arrival. The bright green and the foreign faces fade into the din of the food-court, and I’m drawn into his eyes. The eyes of my love take me away.

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waiting

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