She sits on a wall and looks at the children sliding down the road. She can feel her own arse and bones slowly freezing, she breathes in sharp and delicious air. She closes her right eye, leaving a world in half-focus to her mind. The backside of the black boots gently hit the wall, but the sound's nothing more than a ticking, a rythm for insects. She's still waiting, exhaling white vapour from violet lips. But her attention is stuck on what's in front of her, and on what's upon. She loves the dark silouhettes of the trees angainst a burned-out sky. She hears a rustle behind her back, but before she can turn around everything's quiet and silent again. She looks forwards and opens the right eye, catching the glimpse of something laying on the side of the road. Something that wasn't there before.
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