And so she sat there,
smiling quietly,
watching the sun set fire
to the bright green trees,
feeling the window warm against her head,
as frizzy hair brushed her shoulders.
Music flowed through her earbuds,
the scent of orange bloomed
in the gently chattering bus.
Fridays couldn't be better,
and life was beautiful.
Too bad she'd have to leave it behind.

Screeching stung the lovely afternoon,
spinning, and spinning, and spinning.
A cocktail of chemicals rushing,
flushing out the floating happiness.

Black, and tears, and tragedy.
The most beautiful of souls had to pass before all others.