Dead, But Not Gone

She felt the cool fall air brush across her face as she stepped off the bus onto the decrepit old sidewalk. The nagging adolescent voice of the tormenting Carrie Whetherford repeated in her head “step on a crack; break your mother’s back” as she looked down and noticed the spider web of tiny chasms beneath her feet. She hadn’t thought of Carrie since childhood; it was the cracks that brought her back.  “Mama’s fuckin’ dead” she whispered to herself. “Are you happy?”

The hydraulic whoosh behind her signaled the doors closing, yet she gave nary a notice. A tear rolled down her face and fell to the sidewalk, disappearing into the soil between two loosened pieces of concrete. She raised her head, took notice of her surroundings, and headed east down Baker Street.

A faint glow emitted from the miniscule plot of earth her tear had moistened and as she walked away, a sprout sprang forth, its soft green shining like a beacon among the sea of gray surrounding it. The sprout quickly grew and a tiny yellow flower bloomed on its tip.

I’m still here, baby girl.

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