True Colours

Whilst waiting for the next car to approach she gently stroked the face on the poster fixating on the girl's freckles. It was a cold morning and she was annoyed. She never left the house without drinking a big mug of strong tea but had overslept and was running late. Now half an hour had passed and she was still waiting for the first customer of the day.

She picked at the poster killing time and taking her mind off the chill that was slowly rising up her spine. Little pieces fell to the floor, some she worked into little balls aiming at the holes in the nearby drain.

She cried on unexpectedly uncovering the girl in colour hiding behind the poster. Working the streets did strange things to the girls; had done strange things to her. The punters saw them only in black and white; never glimpsing their true colours. It was the only way to survive.