ELLIE WAS ALL ALONE, as if the world suddenly revolved around her. She had on those snazzy glasses, which contrasted her from the daily crowd. While everybody else was going to work in their boring matter with the ordinary boring, old top hats, she was smelling the flowers, having the leash over Georgia, Delila, or whatever name she wanted to put it. This was her moment of blissful harmony, where nothing interrupted her except for the occasional swaying left and right when another passersby was trying to get by his day.
“Why, isn’t it such a wonderful day, Delila?” The dog didn’t respond; for the average human being, they would expect the dog to not physically talk—but Ellie had high expectations. She was aghast at her silence at her simple question. “Delila, why aren’t you answering my question?” Ellie briefly stopped, which resulted in the sudden abruption of Delila’s movement. She was quite different, a woman who actually thought outside the box, but sometimes you can think too outside the box. “DELILA!” The other top-hatters stopped their motions, now looking at the woman. She was concentrating on the dog, and the dog only—but her worldview should really expand—because some were raising their top-hats, even the old-fashioned ladies who had their pink top hats, all with the grand display of diamonds. The internal stress was inside of her—but this energy, if transmuted outward, would result in confusion. All the top-hats had their eyebrows raised, gossiping, talking behind their hands as if they were all wondering who this bitch was. It was a good question, a good question indeed.
She raised her head though, and everybody stopped their normal stride, looking at her, menacingly, with a taste of disgust and arrogance for this individual.
“What? I’m just talking to her.”
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