Moving in the traffic,
bodies pressed tight
in the train subway.
She returned home after
surviving another day.
…
Refusing to take from the good,
hungry in a world full of food,
wondering how she could get used
to the gnawing pain.
…
Her steps were slow
as she walked down the row
of alleys dark and dreary
in a blacked out haze.
A hand shot at her
out of a dark corner
and dragged her away.
…
The next day the priest
said last words on a grave,
“We lost a good man there.”
“Yeah, he was good,”
she smacked her lips,
looking in dark streets
for her next prey.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 
A quick question. Did you mean ‘prey’? (Or ‘pray’) I sensed she was predatory.
Best wishes, Pete.
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You are right, Pete! I missed the typo.
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It still worked. 🙂
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I liked the twist of events Shaily. This reads like a good start to a novel.
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Hehe! Thanks Darnell. I was going for a sad-little-miss ending but this felt more powerful. 😄
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