She sat on the uncomfortable bicycle seat that dug into her hips. The wind blew into her already distressed hair, making it look hopeless. A kiss sitting on her lips that was reminiscent of something she had seen in a movie once. She felt trite and, possibly, a little cliché for it, but there was a secret pride in her. People passed by her without even seeing her. Though this would have made any other woman feel insignificant, she delighted in the fact that no one could see her but him. A contagion had attached to her soul like a parasite. A delightful illness.
(Inspired by Us by Regina Spektor)
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