Amy Rose

Amy, arms crossed, watches the flickering lights of the city reflecting in the frozen puddles beneath her feet. The cold air of the winter night cuts her face, but she doesn’t mind. Her black scarf flutters softly, as a sigh escapes her lips. “How are you?...” she thinks, the words echoing in her mind with an empty echo. “Not that it matters much...” In her eyes, the city is nothing more than a repeated stage, full of shadows that lengthen with each broken streetlight. She kicks a piece of ice and watches it slide across the pavement, her mind wandering between gloomy thoughts. “The world is still the same...” The same empty alleys, the same deserted corners, winter only seems to deepen the loneliness. “What brings you here?...” she wonders silently, though she no longer expects an answer. “I don’t expect much, but perhaps shared silence is better than absolute solitude...”