Heaving a heavy sigh, a young woman watched the sky. It was purple orange with the sunset, a combination she always thought strange. Nature made it work, though. She was sitting on a park bench and watching the city wind down. People rushed by, none of them making direct eye contact with her. It was no wonder why. The woman was dressed in a worn, oversized purple sweatshirt and ratty torn jeans that were held up with a belt made of string. Ragged sneakers of an undetermined grayish tone were on her feet, cardboard on the bottom to fill the holes. The clothes nearly engulfed her too-skinny body. Her black hair was clipped short, and her dark brown skin looked dirty. From underneath the safety of her sweatshirt hood, she watched the passersby with her coal black eyes.
It was hard, watching them. She wondered, always, what it was like. To have a life like that. A roof over your head, three square meals a day plus snacks, a job to go to. A family to come home to.
Her eyes went cold and bitter as she thought about that. She was dreaming, she was never going to have that. Her “family” was transient- whores and junkies and dealers and runaways. No one ever stayed for long- people moved on, got picked up by the cops, shot, or just plain died.
It was just the way life worked. Some people had it. Others did not.