*Work in progress (no idea how long, how short, or if it will just end like this. i have an idea, but an idea is just an idea, unless if becomes more than just an idea.)
“Two tickets please, to…”
A slender hand swept pass her right ear, pushed back some strands of chestnut hair, luscious in her palm.
The woman at the ticket booth asked:
The girl looked up at the list of locations and paused. Her pale lips curled up at the ends, the right side unintentionally higher, forming a lopsided smile, beaming like a crescent moon, fallen from the sky and docked up near the edge of the ocean.
“Why don’t you pick for me.”
The woman frowned; a puzzled look, lost, as if searching for her missing piece.
“Where to, miss?”
The girl sighed, closed her eyes, and pointed to a name on the board. Then she asked:
“What does it say?”
Her voice was sweet, like that rare drop of honey hidden in a bowl of Chinese medicine, a twinkle, dissolving and dissolving, consumed by that dark liquid of bitterness. But not so sweet, not like Halloween candy, so thick with cheap sugar, gritting between the tongue and cheek that you’d want to gulp down bottles of water.
The woman tilted her head, peeking through the top of her reading glasses, scoffed:
“Yes!” the girl smiled; her eyes sparkled, “Wymore, Nebraska!”
“Twenty dollars,” the woman stamped two train tickets, and passed them along. Her voice was lazy, like the weak bark of a dog on a hot summer day.
The girl took the tickets, paid the money the woman, and left the ticket booth. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater long enough to be a dress, hanging loose on her, with the sleeves rolled up.
The sweater came a little undone, with a strand of yarn trailing at the bottom.
In her arms was a shoe box.