19.

3:15. Sitting on a bench.
Surrounded by other stiff benches.
She was sitting behind me, she would always be sitting alone waiting.
To her left, the sun would set, to her right the solid concrete would not dare move.
She sat between. Waiting.

She wore brown short boots. I know I didn't see, but I remember the heels of her hooves scratching against the rough surface below her.
I pictured them brown, those noisy boots.
So noisy, I told my head. The noise lasted for a long while, still noisy. Still.
I tell her to shut it, pull of her ugly dung-of a colored shoes and throw it.
The passing Isuzu truck crunches it between its teeth, I smack her foot with the pile of books between my arms.
She screamed and heard her cry. Wait.
This was all in my head of course. It was all in my head.
the girl, the walls, the naked sky. All in my head.

"Are you gone?" Naturally, the voices in his head didn't reply. Neither was she for that matter.
Still between the divides, waiting for his 3:30 bus. Awaiting for a reply. By the time the bus arrived, he had already forgotten the question.