Brody by Victoria H. Smith

myself to go forward and not look back. The further I moved, the further I got away, my anxiety levels rose. It wasn’t because I had no idea where I’d be sleeping tonight. In fact, not knowing where I was or even how I could travel out of this town ebbed it. It was knowing with each step I made, the odds of me seeing the man that saved me again grew smaller and smaller. That had been the point, though. Cutting ties now meant I didn’t have to do so later. No more emotions could get involved. No more ties or connections could be formed and no more feelings could develop.
    If they were even real feelings at all.
    I had one goal and one goal only. I had to get home and right some wrongs that needed to be fixed. I had to correct some mistakes— my mistakes.
    I continued to move through the park quickly and like a lifeline was needed, my saving grace came in the form of a bus only a few paces from me. It pulled to a stop near the sidewalk, letting on passengers, kids and their parents, that filtered from the playgrounds. I didn’t know where this bus was going, but I did know it would take me away. I could figure out my next move once I rode it to the end of the line. I had a little money, but didn’t know if it was enough to afford a train or long distance bus ticket. If it wasn’t, I knew I was left with little options to get more, one of which I couldn’t even stomach to do the last time. How I let things get that bad disgusted me. I’d done some fucked up things before to get by, but that… I didn’t even want to think about it as I got into the bus line.
    Standing there, thinking about what little money I did have and why, I couldn’t resist looking behind me for a set of deep blue eyes. He wasn’t there, though, and wouldn’t be there anymore. Stupidity reared its head when I let my thoughts linger on him. I thought about how I didn’t even get to know some of the most mundane things about him. Like some of his favorite things to do or his favorite season. Heck, even his last name I never found out.
    Ignoring the tug at my heart, I turned to look forward and move with the rest of the line, but my gaze stopped on a little girl still standing in the park near the four square lot. She looked ten or so and I knew exactly what caught my attention about her. She wore a pink tutu, spinning on the tips of her toes in a circle.
    The vision warmed my heart. She was so carefree as she twirled. Her hands above her head, she was lost in her dance. Why can’t things be that simple always? Why couldn’t things be that beautiful always?
    Dropping her form, she ran over to a ring of boys and girls. They all varied in age, but didn’t seem to be that much older than her. They looked to be twelve to early teens and surrounded a couple other boys dancing. Free styling in the middle of the circle, the kids didn’t need any music at all. They just danced. They had fun while the group around them chanted them on.
    When a couple were done, others moved in, showing their stuff as well. They all did various forms of hip hop, hitting anything from breakdancing to various popular moves in music videos. The young girl on the side in the tutu watched, her eyes wide in fascination. Before I knew it, she was attempting to make her way into the circle. I was glad she wanted to show her stuff. I doubt she had any formal training at all and was just playing around before, but all kinds of dance should be represented in that circle.
    I almost made it to the head of the bus line, but couldn’t help letting my gaze linger in that direction. I wanted to see her start. Turns out, she never got the chance. The moment she tried to break into the circle, another girl a little older than her, stood in front of her, eyeing the young girl’s tutu.
    “You can’t dance here,” she said to her. “Ballet isn’t real dancing.”
    Now, I knew this girl was a kid and didn’t know any better, but frankly, her comment couldn’t have pissed me off