Writing Sample 6

“Cute dog,” she said to him, aloofly. She snubbed out her cigarette on the plastic green picnic table and bent over to wrap her slender arms around her porcelain legs. She put her chin down on her knees. She was still watching the boy and his yappy white dog. It was jumping on his legs now. The sun was struggling to come out. She could almost feel it on her bare arms. They were across the park. She had said it to him, out loud, but knew he couldn’t hear her.
She began smoking cigarettes intentionally. She liked the idea of knowing what she wanted- it appealed to her. Craving and satisfying. To actually be able to give herself something that she sought. To know what she desired. It didn’t bother her that it was unhealthy, bad for her.
She loved blueberries, but often forgot the fact. And in reality she only sort of loved blueberries. It was always a gamble, with every single one. You could not know if, when you exploded it inside of your mouth, it would be heavenly sweet or bitter and nasty.
She had closed her eyes and was listening to the traffic. She felt for the sun. She could hear an old man watering his garden, mumbling to himself. When she opened them again the boy, and his dog, were gone. She pouted. She was surprisingly sad. She didn’t know him, but she had imagined him to be quite an amazing maniac. And in her mind they had become friends. He seemed enthusiastic about things, as dog people tend to be, and she was desperate for any kind of human friendship. They had sat in the park together, held hands even. He had told her of his devotion to her eyes, and her elbows, and her long willowy fingers. They had picked flowers and gazed down to their insides at the tiny universes cocooned in there. He put one in her hair so that his three universes could make a triangle. The universe of her soul. The universe of his soul. And the universe of the flower. She imagined him to be very romantic.