She used to be a partner with one of my close friends, back when we all went to the same high school. I had seen them together in the hallway many times, fingers interlocked and pleasantries given to all passing mates, including myself. Soon enough I knew it wouldn't work, so they ended up breaking it off; last I heard of her was when she decided to be called by another name - a male one in fact.
We had boarded the same train due northwest, toward the O'Hare airport. I paid zero attention to her, for I was focused on my world since the absence of earphones brought boredom to my journey home. After a few minutes had rolled by, the train finally came to my (our) stop, and we stepped out through the doors, up the escalator, into and out of the turnstile, and began to play the finishing touches on reaching home. She walked ahead of me, constantly looking back as if someone was observing her with bad attention - then again there was a small circle of teenage rejects that were filled with blabber that might've been harassing her. Or mayhap she recognized me, and didn't wish to communicate (thank god for that).
The declining staircase lead to the parking lot outside of the station, where she then angrily threw her pink lighter to the edge of the curb, a staging that I found hilarious and started to giggle a bit. I ignored her thus after. I was in no mood to trigger the brat's lividness anymore than what was being done. Thankfully she went into a different direction, relieving me from the quiet tension shared between me and her.
I'm not sure what sort of conclusion I can take away from this. All I know is that they're [teenagers] are still brats and they're easily agitated by anything, even if it's within their own minds.
As people have said before, time and time again, "Those damn kids!"
I called her brat, because she tossed her pretty lighter to the ground without any known reason. "Don't judge a book by its cover," but I always do.
March 18th, 2016
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