A woman at the bus stop

A WOMAN AT THE BUS STOP.

Nothing broke her reverie. She sat in amnesia it seemed. Clangor of horns did not carry an edge to deflect her introspection.

What was she thinking waiting at the bus stop?

She was in two worlds. Surging pandemonium inside and unnerved chaos outside.

Her thoughts were so heavy on her heart it seemed that she was consciously unconscious to muse on her thoughts for a long time.

 Her eyes were blurting out thousand untold stories.

Her fist was tight as if she wanted to hold the thoughts so that they don’t become a story! She was holding on for too long curbing her innate desires .Her posture spoke of nostalgic contemplations. Threads of thoughts that she weaved drenched her with sackcloth and ashes inside the soul. She sat conscience stricken .It was the only available place that gave her liberty to ratiocinate. Her once youthful smile appeared defunct curve on her face. Silver strands at the edge of her temple appeared distasteful.

Will she get liberation from the thoughts or the predicament?

I could not stop myself from clicking her.