Trace of ink

Prologue

On a cold, lonely night, on the street filled with silence, a girl stood firmly right beside a rusty lamppost, unmoved. A soft wind blew her pale cheeks, some hair strands danced with its calm beat, she loosened the tight grip of her hands as a tear escaped, which she wiped violently. A silent fury was suffocating her, the cold breeze of the wind had nothing to aid her aching lungs. As she held her balled fist into a firm grip, her nails dug into her palm. When a sound of a vehicle entered her ears, she slid both of her hands inside the pocket of her jacket, hadn’t paid attention to how red it was. And took a huge breath to calm down her horses. She raised her right hand three o'clock angle and a bus stopped, someone went down. Too distracted with her flooded emotion to the point that she forgot she was actually at a bus stop. She hurriedly slid her hand in again and disregarded her burning cheeks. She was embarrassed and bit her inner cheek. She silently took the only vacan...