View From Above

Angela looked down from the balcony to the street below. Tiny people moved about, cars flowed in a stop and go march from stop light to stop light, smaller than matchbox cars. Her black hair hung down around her head, a veil surrounding her face. The world looked marginal from this height and she felt quite indifferent to its nagging desires.

The sun was just above the horizon on this autumn morning. A damp chill was on the wind and the smell of decaying leaves in the air. But Angela felt alive, invigorated as the world made its final steps toward the winter slumber. She was ready to meet Ryan in person, in real life.