Look At The Children!!!

“Beep!!”  The shrilling pitch of the siren rang deep in my ears.  The familiar hustling of
people, their gluttonous eyes, shrewd and wide open, searching for any opportunity to
compromise someone else’s fortune to make their own.  Waiting patiently for the
oncoming traffic to cease, I indicate and commence turning right where, out of nowhere
an imbecile speeds out of a concealed driveway and collides head on into me.  After a
substantial jolt causing my head to crash against the hard plastic steering wheel I
regained consciousness, and instinctively know I have to abandon what is left of this
hollow heap of metal which once was my car.  I want so much to confront the
incompetent driver about the extreme inconvenience he has caused me but instead I sit,
paralysed.

A capricious feeling prickles throughout my body, causing me to quiver.  Blood trickles
down my forehead bespattering my soft, freshly pressed ivory blouse.  The crimson
blotches viciously eat through the delicate fabric, serving as a disturbing awakening to
how sensitive life is.  I stare back at the frantic fool who babbles aimlessly through the
shattered window.  Feeling the missing fragments lodged in my skin, piercing the surface
causing a pain so enormous I become increasingly deadened to it, as it’s intensity
heightens.  My eyes film over, and the only visual evidence I have of the glass’ existence
are the pricks of blood which have miraculously sprung to the surface of my skin, the
crimson dye staining my unblemished cinnamon complexion.

Suddenly, peering through the broken window an entourage had gathered, staring at the
absurd spectacle before them.  Each of them, staring and gawking without an inch of
humility, as if I were some sort of morning entertainment, for their enjoyment only.
Within I laughed at the spectators who were unwilling to help yet so effortlessly amused.
Out of the corner of my eye I search beyond these puppets, and noticed two young
children frolicking playfully in the park nearby, completely oblivious to the commotion
occurring around them.  I sit and ponder, wondering why these bystanders so involved in
scrutinising me, a person who has nothing more to offer this world other than this pitiful
performance and ideas that have been chiselled unwillingly within, when they should be
observing the actions of the children.  Concentrating on the innocence and simplicity of
their ways, but mainly their sheer enjoyment in the celebration of life.

Blinking sluggishly toward this demented, disfigured world I shred my repugnant blouse
in an act of anger and necessity.  With the remains I wipe at my bloodied forehead and
erase my blotted skin until all the blotches have disappeared, completely.  The onlookers
ignoring my plea to focus their attention toward the children continue to stare, as they
witness this character sitting topless in the remains of her car.  I briefly examine myself.
Other than a few scratches, a gargantuan headache, and a mild case of whiplash, I come
to the conclusion that I am fine.  Ready to face this judging audience, I seize my purse
and overcoat from the floor, and stretch for the door handle.  I inhale deeply as the door
clicks open.

The sting of the icy, winter air awake me to my surroundings inducing my nipples to
stand erect, obviously frozen by the cold.  I wrap myself in the overcoat and button it
entirely leaving only my long, straw like fingers, and the mawk complexion of my face
uncovered.  With one foot, steadily after the other I clumsily yet assuredly commence
crossing the road, pacing as meticulously as possible, until I found solace in the dark,
offbeat coffee shop.

As an admitted caffeine addict I preferred the likes of this cafe` due to the five inch thick
glass window and sound proof walls making it a haven of silence.  A calming, dead
silence, that was soothing to my ringing ears.  The tiny mosaic table I always sat at was
vacant, as if it had been awaiting my arrival.  It had no view of the road, nor any
windows.  Just wall.  The commotion and catastrophe from this morning had finally
come to an end.  The smiling waitress brought me my customary mocha latte and I
immediately wrap my freezing fingers around the warm glass, and begin sipping.  With
each sip, an image from a warped slide show playing in my mind is revealed, and by the
time I had reached the dark, chocolate film on the bottom of the glass, I came to the
conclusion that all this calamity had occurred for a reason.  To realise the importance of
simplicity.  The children.

The naiveté and innocence of the beings was something I deeply longed for.  It was no
surprise that the bystanders refused to take notice of them, for all this time I had been
ignoring their faultless example also.  I licked the remaining chocolate out of the glass,
clutched my hand bag and thanked the waitress.  As I walked through that door, I smirked
at the continual congestion my newly defunct car had caused.  The chaos and catastrophe
it had brought about was so boisterously entertaining, for it was nothing.  It did not
matter.  A sting in my right arm caused my smirk to waver momentarily.  Glancing down,
the glimmer of glass caught my eye.  Causing my skin to weep, I yanked it out and threw
it down on the concrete.  Stopping to suck at the liquid which slowly seeped through, I
purposefully crushed the piece in my stride, crushing along with it the old and allowing
ample space for the new simple life, which I was to claim as my own.