Artemis Drifting

Just because she tippietoes, doesn't mean she's a creepin'.

Doubt

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“It’s that time of the sunset again.” she murmured, staring at the orange sky over the rim of her glasses.

Her companion sunk deeper into the half egg-shell chair, “Why can’t you just say how you feel?”

She smiled, an ivory flash showing between two fingers that framed her lips in a horizontal peace sign. “But that is how I feel.”

“You’re a human being, not a time of day. Though with how weird you are, I’m starting to doubt the former part of my observation.”

The hundred year old seat bottom creaked beneath her as she rose to her feet and then stretched onto the balls of her feet. “That’s how I got here you know.” Two fingers came up and tapped on the shallow dent of her right temple.

“How?”

She closed one eye, grinned, and arched her thumb to resemble the hammer of a gun.

“Doubt.”

Crosswalk

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The crosswalk glowed as a lingering high five.

She stood there with a sullen expression, watching the duplicate machine across the street count down.

Where she was from, you never had to wait to go. The concept was alien because her people’s independence had plenty of room to stretch out and grow.

She was angry that the city was more honest. It wrote unspoken rules and drew invisible lines.

Tucking her thumbs, she waited.

The hand turned to numbers. Somewhere, on the other side, time had run out.

Her shoulder bent inward as she was jostled forward, and she begrudgingly stepped into the street. Just even listening to the electric humming over her head felt like a betrayal.

But she …

She had never felt so alone than the moments she stood there waiting.

The light that sluiced between the buildings blinded her, and cupping one hand over her forehead she proceeded forward.

Ah…God, it was so bright.