Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[9]

Shawn

***

Elle and I take a cab down to the airport, which was in Newark, so it was kind of a long ride. We mainly talked about random things the whole ride, which was okay, because Elliot could always stir up the best conversations. Even if you're just talking about politics or school or something boring like that, she can make you laugh. That's just who she is.

When we were a little over halfway there, the cab starts slowing down and Elliot and I both turn to look at the driver, hoping for an explanation.

He grunts. "Shit!"

"What?" I ask, leaning up against the passenger seat.

"We're out of gas," he says quietly.

"Are you serious?" Elle scoffs.

"Well I'm sorry I didn't think to get gas at four in the morning."

"Whatever," Elle sighs. "Where are we, anyway?"

I look out the window into the night, where the stars and the moon still hung above us, illuminating most of the darkness. There was a single building outside the window with a wall facing us, that curved around into another alley a lot like the one Elliot and I visited not too long ago.

"A part of town no one ever really stops at," the driver answers.

"Why wouldn't they stop?" Elliot leans forward.

"Because there's nothing interesting here. It's a breeze-by."

"Can we please just focus on getting a ride to the airport? If I miss my flight Andrew will skin me," I say.

"I'll call a tow truck," The driver says after a while, sounding quite annoyed.

"Shawn," Elle nudged my shoulder.

I turn to face her.

She was looking out the window at the building outside, her gaze narrowed on one thing and one thing only.

"Look," she says, her eyes lighting up. "It's art."

There was graffiti painted all across the side of the building that curved, and it went from the ground to the very peak.

"Can we go see?"

I turn to look at her again and, seeing the way she was so fascinated by some street art, I found it very difficult to say no. It's not like we had anything better to do anyways, just sit in a cab.

"Okay," I say, and she follows me out the door while our idiot cab driver argues with an idiot tow truck driver over the phone.

"Look at this!" she squeals once we get close enough to see.

There was a streetlight right beside the curve, so the wall was lit up enough to see. It was a lot easier than using the flashlight on my phone.

"Isn't it amazing?"

I nod and look at the tags on the other side of the wall. Some pieces were answering others, which I've seen on a lot of graffiti. Different artists, yes, but they both had stories to tell.

"I like this one," she points to a little pair of blue shoes near the bottom, it's laces untied. They were being worn by a stick figure, but she was only pointing to the shoes.

"They're shoes," I laugh.

"No, but, look," she puts her finger on one of the laces and follows it up, where it turns into a rope, clearly done by two separate people.