The girl with the blue dress.
Everytime I close my eyes, I see the girl with the blue dress. Her image haunts me.
I see her sitting on a cement wall, looking over her shoulder at me. Her sun-bleached hair is lit by the falling sun. She looks familiar, but is shrouded in the blurriness of a distant memory.
I was running an errand when my attention was drawn to the familiar figure heading toward the underpass. I had seen this particular homeless man walking aimlessly through our small town many times and often wondered about his story.
The early morning sun shone behind the acacia tree – red, angry and covered in the orange hue of fire. The sun was here to witness an injustice it would cycle back to tell many years later.
Blue sky hovered above us as the hot wind delivered the scent of fresh herbs from nearby trees. I inhaled deeply, driving this memory to the core of my body. Birds took to the sky in anticipation of discarded human flesh.