[ IP ] Bittersweet Moonrise .

Her hand dragged down the window pane. 
 
 Squeaky screams echoed throughout the clock tower. She dusted her hand of collected grime, the dirt falling onto her little handy dandy notebook. 
 
 In a bout of impulse, she stood up and pressed her forehead on the glass, between the cold metal grid. The stars twinkled in question of her sanity as she brought a pen to the glass. 
 
 `` Tap,'' She mouthed as the pen's head hit the glass. An inanimate moan seared through the clear material, as a deafening vibration reverberated through her temples. With a smoker's sigh, she slightly cracked her eyes open to look at the city below. 
 
 Cabs and cars skidded across the new cold winter night, their indication lights blaring through the thickening fog. Masses of people scattered themselves across the street, walking, jaywalking, and flat out thieving. 
 
 `` Tap,'' She moaned, as she landed a hard, precise hit. Her eyes strained through the clouds, watching as the rough tar roads turned into dead cold clear ice. The cars seemed to skid around a bit, and the people seemed to sway drunk. 
 
 `` Taaaap.'' She dragged the words, as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. The vehicles turned into children, swaying unsteadily on brand new ice skating blades. The adults now were decked in winter gear, holding hands as they navigated a frozen lake's ice. 
 
 `` Tap.'' She calmly spoke in defeat, as the buildings flashed out of existence and the ice below rose up to her level. The children skated right through her, and the Conga lines dashed right past her without a sound. 
 
 A lone young man skated to her, an arm stretched out to hold anothers'. Glee brew through her, bubbling as she reached out. They held a hand as they skated into an abyss of darkness, with nothing but a rising full moon to light their way. 
 
 And in the stark light did the ice crack, and with a faint goodbye did he drown dead. 
 
 `` Hey.'' A strict voice called from behind her. She flung the pen away in panic as she whirled around to meet the face of the familiar sound. A hulking man greeted her line of sight, his hand outstretched in demand rather than in request. 
 
 `` Miss, come.'' He spoke gently, as if to give the illusion of choice. Defeated, she put her wrist in his, as she was dragged along for the mourning she did not have the strength to attend. 
 
 And as she was hoisted into the car, she cursed at the rising full moon.
