Her body laid among glass shards, dented black mental and steady streams of blood running down the fragmented vehicle.

It was almost an art peice. The kind the edgy artist who stayed in the corners of the highschool. Face painted in only backs and undeserved hatred to the world would heil like a God.

Not her. She analysed it with a displeasured faced, her golden eyelashes fluttering at her brow as she observed the scene from afar. One of the many in a crowd of murmuring, shrieking pedestrians.

Her mouth was open, revealing the offshade white and shitty piercing behind her lip in its full glory. It was endearing in a sense that this many people. Little connection but the red blood rushing theough their veins hailed at her black flower dress. Reached towards her with shaky resolves and called numbers of nonesense.

She walked away.

She could balme it on the ache of her feet, the hour jorney to her college finally having its piercing consequences vibrate theough her skin.

Or the peering clouds moving further into the eyes of the pedestrians as the building of magnitude could no longer hide it.

Say that the eyebags that rested at her cheeks clawed at her skin- to the point sleep could have grabbed at her at any moment.

It would be false but it wasn’t distain. Or sorrow that dilled her. Now even a sense of her own mortality.

It was as simple as pure indifference.

…

“I want that.” The little girl clutched on her pink fluffly toy pulling it away from her chest as she pulled her mothers dress.

An ugly bright yellow that made her face cringe and turn towards the newest artifact on the high street.

Her mother face remaied unreadable from her height. Her hands were clutched over her mouth, the brown hair pulled into bun-lightly shaked and a small gasp slipped from her mouth.

The girl did little to acknowledge the actions as she faced back towards the black dress. Following the bright red to the gold ring by her finger.

Her mother had one, she believed her father had one when he came back from his overseas trip yet she did always see him slip it back on within the deiveway.

She wanted one. No, desired - yearned for it. To wait for someone( her mother had informed her) was too much for her small kind to comprehend.

At the absence of her mother reaction she let out a small grunt as she took a step foward. Then another, each quick to her journey before a small crunch reounded from her feet.

It was then a tight grab, almost too similar to how her nanny started her discipline, pulled her back.

Her mother grabbing her shoulders. Haste words flying out.

“Dont look.”

“Oh no no no.”

“Poor girl.”

“So viel.”

“Disgusting.”

It was little to stop the repeating mantra in her head. A costant combination of sounds ‘i want that.’ As she faced the fallen body.