FROM THE BLUES
HOMECOMING by Jenna Omeirat
Up over, the dim tempestuous mists rolled and swelled, spitting every drop of pour down towards the ground as though it were toxin. Tricky puddles framed at sporadic interims along the walkway, and people on foot needed to weave their way in and out so as not to get their feet wet. The towering structures that extended up into the sky were generally magnificent and pleasant in daylight, yet now, they’ve decreased to cringing slate-dark squares against the writhing sky – the quality they once held lessened in a moment.
In a city of dim, the main shine was the brilliant yellow of the cabs. Individuals battled to get away from the rain, bumping each other, waving hysterically for a brilliant vehicle to take them away. The flood drained the sides of the structures around me, streaming in turning bolts, diving into the vast mouths of the channels along the edges of the streets. Shrewdly and colorfully dressed individuals surged about around me; the shot – like storm around them, was not able to back them off.
The rain mesmerizingly affected this city of lights. Like an overwhelming shroud, it hosed the soul of the lanes, choking out sentimental motivation surging through like blood does in a body. The hurrying around proceeded, be that as it may, the melancholy of the day was not able to squash these individuals – ants in an ant colony.
I was used to the London traffic, thus New York resembled a small drop in the ocean of the London movement.
I wasn’t extremely attached to the Big Apple, but I had no real option except to come over the distance from Britain to associate with makers who couldn’t care less about my well-being. It was my employment in the end.
I finally got to the inn I was staying in. I muttered a thank you to the cab driver as I took out my bags, head turning to face the floor.
The lodging of the hotel looked on the brilliantly lit city and emanated among the combination of high rises. The inside proved fit for a ruler, and the stunning furniture was as delicate as the layer of a child-sheep. Refined artworks held tight the divider, accurately put, not to annoy the arrangement of every room. I looked around only to see loads of YouTubers chatting, probably about the party tonight. I sighed, keeping my head down.
“Chummy!” A caramel-haired female, also known as Zoey shouted at my direction, grabbing the consideration of numerous others. She kept running over and pressed me into an embrace.
I was shocked by her demonstration of affection; she wasn’t generally decent to me in the past meet-ups.
“Janelle! I’ve missed you sweetheart”, said another blonde. The whole thing was a blur, but I realized that it was Louise.
“I’ve missed you more Lou, and it’s Jen please.” She gestured remorsefully.
“Are you going to the gathering tonight?” Zoe asked, hoping I’d say yes.
“Sadly no,” I answered putting on my fakest grin.
Jenna Omeirat, 13 going on 14, is a 9th grade student currently studying in Beirut Baptist School, Lebanon. She is deeply into writing and music, aspiring to be an author/film director. She resides in Beirut, Lebanon.