A kitten in her coat, and snow in her hair. Where was she going? What was she doing? Was the crescent shaped scar on her cheek significant? Did the brown hair tell of some old sin, never forgiven, or was it her natural color? And the blue eyes… so expressive, yet so emotionless and cold at the same time.
Wonder where she's going, he mused, chin on his hand, as he looked lazily out the window. A shot rang out along the street, and the girl stumbled back, looking down at her chest as blood blossomed along her shirt. The kitten jumped out of her coat and ran away. The girl fell, as if in slow motion, onto the hard pavement.
He half stood out of his seat, mind frozen in shock. People gathered around, but there was a space between the people, allowing him to see the girl. Her eyes were dull, lifeless.
And so, no kitten in her coat, she lay on the ground, surrounded by a pool of hot crimson blood. Lifeless. Frozen. Just like the snow in her hair.
The drops melted as they touched her still warm skin.
Amazing how quickly life can be compromised.
Gone.
Just like snow on skin.
Dedicated to all those who have lost a loved one.