The train lurched to a stop in the station. I alighted and watched as the steam rose from the tracks as the train left the platform side, taking people who have jobs, lives and families that want them.

Sighing, I turned around and left the platform, the swirling smoke washing around my ankles.

*   *   *   *

As night fell, I found a vacated bus shelter. I never pictured my life like this - sitting at a bus stop at 10:30 at night in the middle of town. Well, I could be in the middle of town, but I don't know. When I left the station, I just walked and walked until I really needed a rest. I walked in a direction that I didn't know, took a route I had never seen before and I have no idea where I am in London.

I looked up inquiringly as the hourly night bus wizzed past. The driver looked at me as if I had just shot someone as she drove - a piece of scum on the bottom of the rubbish pile.

My stomach is dying for food. I  reach into my bag and get out another slice of cold pizza and my flask. I am so glad that I came prepared. I don't think my ex-parents will mind me 'borrowing' their debit cards. If it keeps me alive and full, I can live with that.

Once more I delve into the bag, only this time when my hand comes out, I have my blanket. I bring up my legs and huddle against the corner of shelter. I can feel the air getting colder and colder, so I wrap myself up in the blanket and pull my hat down over my eyes and nose. The pattern of the cold, retracting metal seat imprints itself upon my legs and back. I want to retreat further into my blanket and into the small warmth and comfort that I have while I am here. 

I wonder how my ex-parents are  feeling right now. How they're coping. It makes me think about what it's like to be loved...

I suppose that if my story were to become famous, I could have money and make a life for myself. I could do something worthwhile - help other people.

At least a girl can dream.

The one thing that neither they, nor anyone else will ever take away from me is my love for music and singing. I am going to stop stargazing and dreaming in a minute, but I think to get to sleep I will have to  either cry or sing. I know which one I prefer though.

My eyelids are heavy. I close them and retire for the day into the biting cold of the night.

The End

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