Hair flying, the two girls raced along the slippery pavement. It was Winter and the grit had worn off so that the ice underfoot was treacherous. And it was dark. Everyone was treading cautiously.
Not these two.
They were teenagers, couldn’t be more than 15 years old. They were going the same direction as I but by playing a game of tag. Running, then slowing down, then speeding up again, calling to each other and laughing.
But there was an edge to the game. “Feral children,” I thought, and made sure to keep out of their way.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but admire the energy that was bursting out of them and the supreme self-confidence that fed a complete disregard for safety.
Ah! Enviable youth.
The game ended abruptly just in front of me when one girl jumped onto a bus. I looked to see what form their farewell would take.
“Bye, Du Bitch!” yelled the one left behind. Then, hands in pockets, she stomped briskly ahead, disappearing into the gloom. ω