c3



			She

				By: Casey

	She was all alone. Alone against the bustling business day of the city. Alone in great masses of identical individuals. Every faceless passerby had a part to play, a purpose to serve in the great invisible system. She was not a part of it. She meant nothing to the city; the city meant something to her. It meant she was alone. It meant she was nothing, unimportant, totally unnecessary. She leaned against a wall, unsteady under the weight of a city unaware even of her presence. She was alone. She did not have her family; they functioned as an extremity of the city, a tiny economy integrated into the system. She did not have friends. Those people she knew busied themselves in experiencing what the city had to offer and practicing for the day they too would be a part of it all. She stood separated from everyone and everything around her. She looked down. A bug, some sort of insect, had died, and tiny ants were already streaming toward it, anxious to haul the edible mass away. Even the ants bustled as inhabitants of the city, even the ants played a part in the system. Even the insect, dead as it was, served a purpose. It was poetry. And she was utterly alone.

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