Forgotten By All

Light shines brightly from above just like any normal day. People can be seen commuting along Alta Street to their regular old jobs as if nothing is out of the ordinary. However, underneath this seemingly uneventful overpass is an entirely different universe. Light ever so slightly seeps in around rough concrete pillars which are cool to the touch. Smoke bellows from steel containers and rises to the barricaded sky, giving the air a hazy, clouded look. Graffiti, dirt, and grime line the walls. Concrete floors have become littered with waste. This floor is where she sits. A tattered hat goes well with her worn clothing and bony figure. Her skin, stained grey from years of struggle and hardship has been eroded into many deep creases. Her hair starved of moisture, aged jewelry lost, now found, and cheek bones as high as mountains. It would be a marvel to see her stand on such weak legs let alone become erect. The only joint that appears to work would be her elbow which allows her to accelerate her time to death. In her hand she grips a cigarette, inhales, and feels the fumes stream down to her lungs, poisoned from years upon years of constant abuse. She exhales and the process is reversed. The smoke pours over her cracked lips, and cascades down her carcass before colliding with the ground and growing into a wide, creeping ring. She is one of many under Alta Street, under society, to be forgotten by all, and have her niche filled by another unlucky soul.