Running on Empty


Twenty-one years old and still alive, she stared at the general assembly below. The teachers gathered to address the crowd. Her red hair fluttered in the wind of the high sky. It was almost time to get going on home. She hated the assemblies, anyway. They were always the same old boring monotone speeches that were generally designed to inspire or otherwise enforce something supposedly “new” in campus. Nothing was as mundane. Pulling out a cigarette, she lit it and took a whiff. Inhaling the smoke that destroyed lungs brought about a difference in mental stance, and thus she thought, and sought for something more. With a world of passion elsewhere, she was an explorer; she knew how to take the rough and powerful jungles. She knew how to take the rolling hills on, how to ride the waves that rocked the world, and how to take on the people. The people. Looking down at the people, caught in the midst of ex-lovers, fuck-buddies, friends, and sea of people she never had to ask, she noticed someone was missing.

The sunset revealed a whole new side of her. It was a new picture for him; he who watched from nearby. With a camera, he peered through the lens, adjusting focus and zoom. The rooftop deck was a great place to pull out a cigarette, because generally, nobody looked up. It was illegal to smoke inside the campus, though, she didn’t mind. Neither did he who watched from nearby. A swift click of the button did the trick. A few more, before he was gone. Off to some other misadventure with his camera. Soon, the pictures would be posted and the words would form in function. Having anonymity on the World-Wide-Web, he created a universe within his own. His hands on the power of media led to wonders. She didn’t see him.


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