Shallow

Her heart was a place filled with quiet desperation. Shallow and empty a shell of what a heart should be. Someone, somewhere had extinguished the flames of passion leaving behind a pile of cold, damp ashes.

She never smiled, she never laughed. Never was she seen to lift a hand in compassion for a fellow traveler on this road called life. In solitary silence she trudged through life with a chip on her shoulder and a splinter festering in her soul.

For her the turn of quick phrase was a weapon that she wielded with the viciousness and confidence of a hired gun. Her words cut to the quick and left many a casualty wandering around dazed in a vain attempt to collect what remained of their wit.

People were just obstacles she had to overcome has she clung to the ladder of success. Through crook or through hook she did whatever it took to reach the top with no thought to the bodies she left strewn on the ground behind her.

Men never entered into the equation. She had neither the time nor the interest needed for the wining and dining of courtship. Besides she ensured with her attitude and demeanor that no sane man would dare approach her.

Sometimes though, in the darkness of early morning she would awaken with a strange feeling in her chest. Her pillow would be damp and her eyes red. She could just glimpse the retreating edge of a dream as it slipped over the cliff of consciousness. Part of her yearned to drift off into sleep, once more hoping to rejoin the story in progress.

Soon enough however, her more practical side would reign in what little sense of wonder and adventure that she still possessed and bring her back to the cold hard reality of her empty life.