People rush by as time goes by... in this place a shopper's delight.
Rushing from here, going there....when will it end i just watch and stare.
Just observing it all with a hot cuppa coffee catching the eyes of the people that pass me.
Never do my eyes see a leisurely pace both workers and shoppers busy with haste.
Just time restrictions and maxed out cards people barging through no sorry...no regard.
Still sat on my perch bemused by it all as consumers go by in their beastly forms. Searching for the top brands, designers and stalls as fag ends and trash decay on the floor.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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