As the title states, another excerpt. Currently working on editing it, and I realized how much of a masterpiece this was. The scene I am portraying is how a rural, 13 year old girl would feel after arriving into Grand Central for the first time, looking in that lobby.
And, can you spot the prostitutes?
It was the single most exhilarating day of her life. She stepped off the train and entered the corridor, and was amazed. To her, everything seemed grand: the marbled staircases, the large golden clock that stood in the middle of the waiting area, the conductors in their navy blue uniforms with large silver buttons, crowding the tiny cafes for a quick lunch. There were women in brightly colored makeup with hitched up skirts, exposing their ankles and calves as they motioned for men – maybe fathers and brothers – to come over. Slightly disheveled people taking brief naps in the corridors’ corners. Small crowds gathering around musicians and throwing money into dusty hats or rusty cans. She was taken aback when she left the station; she had never seen buildings as tall and menacing as these. Everyone had seemed to be in a hurry; no one had even looked at the small-town girl with the big bright eyes and even bigger suitcase. Perhaps to them, she had been just another one of the thousands or so who did the exact same thing each year. She had been but a single drop of water in the vast expanse of blue ocean.