She’s been walking all night, late in the day, mile after mile. The streets don’t end. Hungry, malnourished, the sun beats down, dehydration sets in.

Muscles frail and tight, she lifts her legs with all her might. She’s been used all her life, alone and delirious, she struggles within.

Days turned to dusks. Dusks turned to nights. Nights turned to dawns. Dawns turned to days. Winters to Springs, Springs to Summers. Summers to Falls. Falls to Winters. In rapid succession. Life goes by much quicker on the streets. Yet the pain feels much slower, physically and mentally.

Shivering in the winter. Sweating in the summer. Soaked when rain falls. Dehydrated from the sun. Thankless Thanksgivings. Giftless Christmases. Cement beds to sleep.

The streets turned her much harsher, much quicker. Her health deteriorated much quicker. Many friends came and went. Her family didn’t ever exist.

A bus bench is ahead. A few minutes later, she takes a seat. Late at night, all alone. Her eyes close. Her body slides down the bench to the seat. She falls asleep.