This was the beginning of a short story I started last year. Maybe I’ll finish it. Maybe YOU should finish it. What do you think Laura will do next?
Laura looked over at the time in the right hand corner of her computer screen. 4:15. She checked it about every 15 minutes. Remarkably, only 15 minutes ticked by each time she did that. Interesting. Not that she didn’t have a lot to do. Deadline was her middle name. There was always a million and one things to do at the office and Laura was a consummate worker and was fairly content with what she did. Yet, 5:30 p.m. couldn’t come sooner.
There was a lot that needed to be done at home. The leaves needed to be raked. The dog needed to be fed. Dinner needed to be cooked. Not to mention the upstairs bathroom hadn’t been cleaned in a month and the laundry was piling up. It also wouldn’t hurt to even attempt to finish reading the last three chapters of that book, or perhaps, if today was a day for miracles, she could even work on her short story.
When the clock hit 5:26 p.m. Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head and dared to leave four minutes early.
Laura gazed out the window of the train on her way home, tapping her feet and admiring the enchanting landscape of abandoned buildings and railroad tracks. Other passengers on the train stared at Laura too hard for her taste and she self-consciously wiped the tip of her nose with her hand thinking maybe there was a smudge of ink there. You never know.
She let out a deep breath. “Oh my goodness! That was the longest 20 minutes ever! Thought I’d never get off that train.” Laura ran to her car and jumped in. She buckled her seat belt and drove home. As Laura pulled into the driveway, Lassie (yes) jumped out of a large pile of leaves, wagging his tail and panting like only dogs can do, so happy to see her. Laura gave Lassie the once over and unlocked the door to her house. She threw her coat and purse onto the kitchen counter top and opened the freezer to find a Lean Cuisine to shove in the microwave for three and ½ minutes. Laura walked into the downstairs bathroom and took a seven minute shower. She lotioned up in her adjoining bedroom and pulled her boyfriend’s tee shirt over her head.
Laura walked into the living room and browsed through her CD collection. She placed the selected CD into the player and pressed play. Natasha Bedingfield sang a heartfelt tune and Laura cried with even more feeling. She let the song repeat until she ached every word. Laura wanted to call out to someone. Something. But she was too tired to even pray. And wasn’t it useless anyway? She shook her head, maybe shamelessly at herself, maybe in despondency. She got up enough energy to walk back into the kitchen. She didn’t go toward the microwave where her now cold TV dinner was. She reached for her purse instead.
❤ and ✰,
Kandi
