Three Word Wednesday a bit late: Eclipse, Velocity, Languish
Sweat ran down her neck and pooled in the small of her back.Â Her shirt stuck to the skin between her shoulder blades, the red gingham cotton faded nearly to pink.Â Frayed denim cutoffs worn thin and blonde hair pulled up on her head in a tortoise shell clip.
She had listened to every word he said and now she was languishing in this “room with a view” .Â It was a view alright.Â Any light from the sun, along with any breeze that might have brought a little relief was eclipsed by the sooty brick building next door that loomed over her like a giant gargoyle, hunched over ready to gobble down everything in sight.
She sat in a ratty chair she had pulled up close to the window, leg thrown over the rickety arm. The fan was making more noise than air movement, hoping for any fresh air that might wind it’s way down between the buildings.Â All she got was the smell of rotting garbage and cabbage cooking which when you think about it, was pretty much the same thing. In the distance a train screamed it’s velocity as it passed right on through, no reason to stop in this dump of a town.
She could hear a radio playing on another floor and the couple next door had been screaming at each other for hours.Â She was jealous.Â She would be glad to have someone to scream at, cook for, give her a reason to stay here.Â He had promised more and she had gulped it all in, stolen money out of her daddy’s wallet and tossed what she could into a backpack.Â They were on their way . He had an old car and that was all but it didn’t matter, their escape blurred all thoughts of anything but how good it would be. They could live on love.
She sighed, turned off the fan and slipped on her tennis shoes.Â She slung her backpack over her shoulder and looked around at the peeling, stained wallpaper, the crooked yellow lamp shade, and the sink full of dirty plastic bowls.Â One tear ranÂ down her face as she closed the door behind her.Â She took the stairs two at a time, walked down the block to the highway and stuck out her thumb.Â She was going home.
A Bit incomplete, is it..??
I don’t know if it painted a past life for you, but it certainly did for me. I think my mother has been there, and her mother, and hers. Your second paragraph “fixes” the place in mind, with the looming and eclipsing gargoyle: I like that paragraph a lot. Vivid squalor – physical and emotional – in the next two paragraphs. Whoever she is, may she vaya con dios.
Not a memory for me personally but could easily have been. The building though, memory of first time in a large city and the feeling of being so small next to the towering buildings. Couldn’t leave her there all alone, hope she made it home safely and dipped in the second chances well..