smoke - clara & pheonix

Everyone was asleep. My parents, even Gina, who was usually up before the sun was. I visited everyone's rooms, making sure no one was awake. Sure enough, all of them were either snoring, or their breaths came out slow and smooth. I left without a sound, except for the occasional floorboard creak and accidental stumbles. Otherwise, I was able to scarf up my breakfast and get out. I stopped just one second before I left, and ran back to my room to grab my warmest cardigan. As I stepped out the door, I knew better than to take a deep breath.

Even after 17 years of living in a place, I've never quite gotten used to the atmosphere. It's almost nauseating, watching the smoke leak from each factory, spitting dead air into just a little less dead air. It makes me feel like I'm choking every time I fill my lungs. I try to take my mind off of things. I look at the ground, studying my too new shoes.  The grass crunches underneath my feet as I walk, but it's not because it's autumn. The grass always crunches.

On most days, I let the crowd carry me. But it's too early, and the people are gone, working in the factories. The only company I have is my breath, which visibly plumes through my mouth from the cold. Every once in a while, I see children too young to work, men and women too old to do (probably) anything. And I see the rich, wearing their colors like badges. My outfit is drab, even though I have shirts of bright hues at home. I find it's better not to be a pretentious ass, even if it is unwittingly.

When I finally get to the square, I don't know what to do. The area is practically deserted. There are only a few lone souls wandering out, and one of those lone souls was me. Not that I minded too much; sometimes the silence was a blessing. But right now, not having spoken since yesterday, I longed for conversation. I scuffed up some loose stones from the pavement, and kicked it. My mind explored the routes that I've memorized, but most of them included walking past the factories, which you really can't escape in District Nine, but I still tried my best to avoid. Maybe it was the fruitless labor going on inside. Or maybe it was the smoke.

I couldn't decide, so I let my feet take me wherever they wished to go, and I obliged.

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note: sorry nothing really happens, I have serious writers block. promise it will get better once it gets going
tags: Lyn𝛿is