I made a brief attempt to write a short story, this is the result - let me know what you think:
The Observer
Days were turning pale and gray with the arrival of autumnal colors. What was left of the bare trees were shades of branches and twigs on the lawns, and the concrete buildings were throwing down darker and colder shadows over the quiet neighborhood. The district was full of lonesome walkers, quietly seeking shelter in their homes nearby.
A young girl was standing in the middle of the street, hands in pockets, watching the others in oblivion. She had no direction to follow, and had no rush to look for warmth or light. She seemed comfortable in her stance, merely observing in the dusk whoever passed before her eyes. She was calm and silent, and no one seemed to notice her presence.
Then a car approached her and horned at her, but no reaction followed. The driver got out of the car and walked up to her. He was a handsome elderly man, well-groomed, and he was wearing black, thick framed glasses. He spoke quietly to the girl, trying to catch her attention, but it seemed as if she were not there. He raised his voice, and he spoke slowly and politely, however, this only seemed to make the lack of response even more embarrassing. The man approached her, almost at an arm's length, and asked her in a quiet voice if she could hear him. The girl turned her head slowly, and her warm, dark eyes stopped and gazed at him for a few seconds. Her lips moved slowly, and her voice was quiet and mellow.
What she said was difficult to comprehend, but the man could make out a few words. He looked up and saw snowflakes flying by, as if winter had arrived out of the dark grey unexpectedly. When he looked back to find the girl, she was no longer there. For a moment, he paused and thought about what she had said. It could have been just his imagination, he figured - a girl in the middle of the street, suddenly gone. Then he went back in his car and throttled.
When he entered his modest apartment, he lit the lights and realized that he was alone for the first time in years - his wife had not come back from work before his arrival.
"I know how you feel", the girl had uttered.
Then he found a short note on the table, addressed to him, in his wife's elegant handwriting.
The Observer - a short story
Moderator: Aesthetics