searching in solitude

the night was blue. a deep cobalt blue. not black, night was never black in her eyes...always a shade of blue. the asphalt was still warm from the sun that had not been long set, but the rocks in the woods would be cold. they accustomed themselves to the nature of the night much quicker than the road. the road still seemed to hold out hope...clinging desperately to the last memory of the sun. but the rocks had been there longer. wrapped in the shade of the trees, they were always cold. always ready for the blue night to descend on them. she wandered to the end of the road, where the blue asphalt met bluer gravel. roads that dont go anywhere intrigued her. so she came here and sat. it is one of her many "spots." yet it is one of the only ones she goes to...for the others are dangerous at night. and a painful trip in bare feet. so she came here. the night was cold. it was still summer, though the night tried denying the fact whenever it held its hand over the mountain. the rocks forgot the sun quickly and the grasses bathed in the dew...shivering and waiting. why had she come here? she asked herself. why? how many times had she wandered away from people who would be more than willing to listen to her problems in favor of the cold, silent night? she always went where no one would find her...though it was usually when she most wanted someone to find her. wanted someone to care enough. she didnt want to have to ask people to care...thats not how its supposed to be. he was supposed to be walking by...looking for something or someone too. and they would find each other. and sit and talk. and it would be better. but he never found her. he never came. did he ever even leave? or think about her?