Her soul was empty. Her heart was dead. The moss grew thick and heavy over her ivory tower. So many times she had weighed her options. All of them perfect opportunities to fade into society. So much had been given to her: financial support, nourishment, love. How could have time passed so quickly but felt so slow and leave nothing but a shattered past in its wake?
She packed her bags one evening, not focused nor caring what it was that made it into her fake Louis Vuitton duffle. The buzzing of the city had become too much for her to take, the constant roar of sirens compounded with muffled idless chatter until all hours from the nightclubs downstairs. She hadnàt much monmey, enough to make it out of town and shelter and food for the next couple weeks, or until she found something better. When she had first stepped off the train to the big city, she had a dream. It was naive, but a dream none the less. Marry rich, live happy. A complete hell, if you ask me. But that was what she lived for. Day after day, waking two hours early simply to make herself "presentable." Living for someone else, not something worthwhile I donàt suppose. But hey, it's living.
The train arrived at 1.30 in the morning, and after the longevity of the ride, all she wanted was a warm bned in which to rest her tired figure. She had arranged for a hotel room near a small piazza in the center of town. She had done her reseach and come to find it was the perfect central location: bars, ristoranti, and most importantly, people.
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