I have some of this written already. I've been wanting to complete it for over a year now.
Meredith was sitting on the brink of a very steep, rather cavernous cliff.
She dangled her feet over the edge, slightly flexing her toes inside her well-worn Converse, wondering if she ought to chance the upgrade from toe-flexing to a gentle swing of her lower legs. She peeled her eyes away from the graffiti'd canvas uppers of her sneakers, and trailed her focus down the ravine, resting her eyes finally on the great pool of water below her.
She shivered. Clutching the front of her somewhat disheveled cardigan in one hand, still gripping her cigarette between the last set of knuckles on her bony fingers, the other hand scooping up her Minolta (somewhat haphazardly) by it's strap, she shuffled backwards on her rear, away from the drop-off. Now a few feet away, she slowly flexed her toes once more, and tentatively stood, quite similarly to the way a reluctant cat will rise from the shadows after the sun's warmth has passed. Flicking her cigarette, she thought to herself, "Fuck. Now what." Quickly, yet somehow with a bit of care, she threw the camera strap round her neck once more, and perched the cigarette between her pouting lips, thus freeing her hands up to wrangle her cellphone free from the front pocket of her tattered jeans. "Shit. No service." Irritated, she flipped her phone back shut.
She scratched her head, near the temple. Suddenly, she dropped back down to the ground, this time in the lotus position. Remembering a quote she'd seen somewhere, she ran the words through the forefront of her consciousness. "Empty & quiet, clear and calm. Empty & quiet, clear and calm. I must make my mind..."
Footsteps.
Her focus was shattered. Re-opening her eyes, squinting for not the last time in the glare of the redgold dusklight, she searched for details in the silhouette approaching her. The figure appeared to be masculine. Tall and slender, a blond haired boy walked towards her. He had come the opposite direction that she had. Meredith had approached up the side of the Viaduct. This boy seemed to have weaseled his way up one of the vertical ports spotting the ground, that led straight up through the cemented walls concealed beneath the earth she was now seated on. She licked her lips. They tasted of sweat and black herb. She loved her Djarums, they tasted like the smell of Christmas ham. She doubted the delight found in Christmas hams though, no amount of earthy seasonings could possibly outweigh the horrific texture ham had. This is why she loved clove cigarettes.
As her mind wandered, the boy approached. Meredith was roused from her spice reverie when two very scuffed Doc Martens edged their way into her sight. She lifted her head.
Her copper eyes met with two hazel irises, boxed in by two black horn frames.
She parted her lips to greet this strange fellow, although no words perched on her tongue, begging for release. Thankfully, the boy took it upon himself to swiftly plop down in front of her, pulling a notebook from somewhere amongst his pockets, and wrote something. He set it down in the dust, and slid it to her, slowly, with one finger.
"Oh. Hello."
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