Maybe.

This is sometime soon. Just maybe.

-

It's one am on a Sunday morning, the streets are dark but far from quiet. People dressed in party clothes, girls in skimpy dresses and skirts with alcohol and smoke on their breaths walk past in drunken stupor. Down the street she walked, alone. The slight drizzle brushed past her face, the air, fresh and cool. Loud music was pounding in the distance, and her footsteps matched every beat as she quickened her pace. Her thoughts are running at a hundred miles per hour, but her heart, her heart is somehow, silent and still. It's peace.

Still, wondering, still, praying.