Judgement

There's a shadow on the floor in the corner of the room. A crumpled huddled figure, masked in the blacks and greys. The figure is human, small, frail. The eyes are dull and hard like granite. Like a stone that the ocean has broken and crashed against an infinite number of times. Eventually that rock will turn to sand, ground down enough times that it becomes less and less each beating. The rock is no longer something one can trip on, or stub their toe on, the rock can not even prove it's own existence once it is sand. Sand goes unnoticed, no grain of sand more important than the next, reduced to nothing. The figure's frame is shaking. Perhaps with fear, the fear of being discovered, or the fear of never being found. Perhaps with cold as the wind whips through the drafty room. The emotions are as well concealed as the figure itself. Buried behind hollow eyes and dirty sunken cheeks. The rest of the room is well lit and crowded. Happy, chatter carries through the crowds. It is easy to miss the camouflaged creature. Amidst the laughing and dancing and frivolity going on, who has time to spare a glance at an idle guest. Perhaps the figure has bigger problems than being a wallflower. You step into the room, and after initially having to shove your way through the crowd, you are immediately engulfed by the party. You're passed a drink and offered a dance, stumbling towards an open space in the crowd, into a corner. What do you find their but a drunken girl rude enough to pass out on the floor. Her limbs are bleeding, you've assessed her as a drug addict and her lack of dress also implies prostitute. Who is this stranger? Who cares?