The Girl Writing In The Train

The Girl Writing In The Train | Chapter Three | Writing Corner

Welcome to my latest category; writing corner. To catch up please go read this page — https://fitcouchpotato.com/writing-corner/ —- It will explain what this category is about. Now that you know what’s what, thank you so much for reading. This is my first story for this category and I’m beyond excited for this new concept. Please enjoy!

PS. All of the chapters will be the first draft. If you see any mistakes (grammar and spelling mistakes that slips through) please comment down below. I want to improve my writing and I will take all the help I can get.

Find the previous chapter here — https://fitcouchpotato.com/2018/03/11/the-girl-writing-in-the-train-chapter-two-writing-corner/

Chapter Three

I groan when I get the normal scratch from Fluffy when my alarm goes off. I rolled over and glanced at my watch. Wednesday. Wonderful. Three more work days. Come on…pull yourself out of bed and just get today over with. I use all the willpower I have left in my body and get out of bed, get dressed and drag myself to the train station. It was a quite morning which is always a nice pace for the week. Wednesdays is never my favorite day…meetings can do that to a person. I take the window seat in the corner as always. I open my laptop and glance around the train. A tired blonde woman in scrubs catches my attention. Inspiration sparks and the ideas just race through my mind. My fingers can barely keep up.

***

Finding your soul mate can happen out of the blue. You’re not prepared for it and the timing isn’t always the best. I never expected to fall in love but yet after spending every day with this man, it was enough. I fell deeply and it truly can’t be explained. For the last year I’ve cared for him. I sat at his bedside table every break I had and read to him. His parents said he loves cowboy novels and we’ve finished quite a bit of them. Today was no different. My morning started in a rush of just pure chaos, there was a massive car accident and with five injured people every nurse had to be step in to help. The driver who over packed his car and drove carelessly came out of the accident mostly unscratched. The oldest nurse in our station, Mary, launched into a full on lecture. The poor young man didn’t know what hit him but after Mary finished with him the twenty something year old took what she said to heart. He learned his lesson that and the fact that the police came in to have a chat surely help. I doubt you will ever find him in the same situation again. Mary can do that to person. She is a force to be reckoned with. Not all of the students in the car was as lucky. The one completely shattered his right leg. The road to recovery will be long and difficult and he will be lucky if he walks away with a limp. The doctors did everything they could to save the leg from an amputation. One student broke their jaw as seat belts is apparently no longer cool. By some miracle they didn’t fly through the window. The two other students had some broken bones and a lot of bruises but most of them will make a smooth recovery. After patching the poor bloke with four broken ribs and one broken arm it was time for my favorite patient.

Jack came in 16 months ago after a massive motorcycle accident. There was only a few bones the young man didn’t break. Not only did he have internal bleeding, the head injury only added to the long list of damage. After a long surgery, the only thing his family could do is wait. He woke up once, in pure agony. It happened to be on my round. After cleaning his wounds I moved on to sticking the new and clean pillow under his head. I quickly changed his bedding with quite a bit of effort but everyone likes a clean bed. It just makes everything better. I gave his hair a quick wash with shampoo and conditioner before giving it a blow dry and a proper comb. I made a mental note to cut his hair soon as it was getting a bit long. From the pictures I’ve seen of him on his Instagram (I stalked because that’s who am I as a person okay.) he prefer his hair short. It something small but I’m sure he will appreciate it when he wakes up. I shaved his beard and brushed his teeth before washing his face and finishing off with a moisturizer. Once I was happy with his face I moved on to his finger nails which was getting a bit long. After giving it a quick cut and clean I finished off with his toenails. I paused…now I just need to wash his body. It always felt so awkward and even though I have experience under my belt and I proud myself on professionalism…but this dude is hot okay. He was a fitness model on Instagram for goodness sake. I bit my lip. My nervousness was throwing everything out of whack and everything is out of order. I gave myself a pep talk and just quickly rubbed his body with a wet cloth trying my utmost best to call for all of my professionalism not to sneak a peek. I took a deep breath when I finally finished. After checking his drip I ended my run with tucking him in…that’s when he woke up. He scared the living life out of me when he suddenly jerked up straight, ripping out his IV in the process, screaming in agony. I quickly called for the doctor and rushed to his side to check his vitals and try my best to calm him down. Considering he has never seen me before, he didn’t exactly calm down at my soothing words. The doctor rushed in and had to sedate him. He woke up a few hours later a little calmer but in a lot of pain. He was confused and clearly he hit his head hard as he didn’t recognize his parents nor did he know his own name. He wasn’t healing at all and the stress and panic his mind was going through with who the hell am I and where am I, his parents made the decision to put him in a medical induced coma to rest his mind a little more so his body can heal and recover. 16 months later things were looking up for Jack. The doctors has been talking about waking him up as his body has recovered and now it’s just a matter of seeing how his memory is and then we can go from there. After all he can’t be in the hospital forever. He has to restart his life…

***

And. And. And. Where am I even going with this little short story? I bit my lip wracking my brain for ideas. Does he wake up and they build a life together while he is recovering? Is there some happy ending? Do I break her heart and have him move on without her? After all sad endings are fun sometimes. I glanced at my watched. Oh there is fifteen minutes left of my travel time. It’s not really enough to make a new story and as my inspiration suddenly vanished. I closed my laptop and got my phone out instead. I opened Whatsapp and saw my mother send me a message. I sighed and took a breath to mentally prepare myself for whatever her message might be.

“It’s your father’s birthday on Saturday. I hope you didn’t forget this year around. Please feel free to get him a present if you can afford it. We’re having a small get together at our house this Saturday. Please be here at 3pm and don’t be late. We’re having some of our friends over and it will be rude if our daughter arrives after the guests. My one friend Susan is bringing her lovely son over. He is a doctor. Please put some effort in your appearance. Do your hair and makeup and wear a dress. Don’t embarrass us this time please.” Oh you just got to love those long messages from your mother where it seems nice at first glance but there is quite a bit of insults hidden inside the message. If I can afford it? I have a full time job and a permanent contract. I damn good at my job but not as if my mother understood that. She just thinks I tap a bunch of words into the computer and press enter and call people and etc. What does she even think I do? Small get together my sweet fluffy ass. As if. That women doesn’t know what a small get together is even it bit her ass. Don’t be late? Really? I was late ONCE and only because there was a train delay and I physically couldn’t get there on time. It’s not my fault the only way to reach her is by the bus that only drives every hour. So missing your train can really screw everything up for you. And who can forget about Susan’s lovely son. I’m so happy my mother ignored my wishes to stay single or heck find my own boyfriend but no. I’m not capable of that. Who knows what boy I will bring home. Do my hair and wear makeup? Wear a dress? Rage. Pure rage. And then she ends it with don’t embarrass us? I was still huffing and puffing in pure anger when I got to work. How dare she? This morning is off to a brilliant start. Because someone is out there to make me completely miserable it was no surprise to see we ran out of coffee and being reminded about the long and brutal meeting discussing something I’m not even apart of but my presence is required.  By lunch time I was crying in the bathroom stall. Surprisingly but very much so painfully my day just got worse as a program crashed and it had to be fixed like two days ago. It obviously fell onto my shoulders to solve the problem which was easier said than done. After two hours after fighting with my computer I got the program up and running again. Losing two hours out of your work day doesn’t exactly do wonders for your workload. As I have a ton of other deadlines looming over my head like a crushing weight I had no choice but buckle down and work overtime. The really depressing thing is I wasn’t the only one in the office. Luckily there was an angel among us that thought about dinner and ordered sushi. Hey the office is paying. We have to misuse this opportunity whenever we can.

Find the next chapter here — (If there isn’t a link that means I have yet to update the latest chapter.)

 

The Girl Writing In The Train

The Girl Writing In The Train | Chapter Two | Writing Corner

Welcome to my latest category; writing corner. To catch up please go read this page — https://fitcouchpotato.com/writing-corner/ — It will explain what this category is about. Now that you know what’s what, thank you so much for reading. This is my first story for this category and I’m beyond excited for this new concept. Please enjoy!

PS. All of the chapters will be the first draft. If you see any mistakes (grammar and spelling mistakes that slips through) please comment down below. I want to improve my writing and I will take all the help I can get.

Find the previous chapter here — https://fitcouchpotato.com/category/the-girl-writing-in-the-train/

Chapter Two

My office is a fifteen minute walk from the station. I don’t mind the walk, it’s my daily exercise after all. Little rain drops touch the back of my neck just as I step into the building. Damn lucky timing. I do my normal nod of greeting to the security guard before taking the stairs to my shared open office on the fifth floor. There I find my coworkers deep in work with their headphones on. I quickly take my seat, switch on my computer before going through the to do list on my desk for the day. Five calls, emails and a lot of paperwork. Joy. While I wait for my computer to load, I make myself a cup of coffee. As always I make enough coffee for the entire team. They all grunt their thanks in between work. I prefer it this way. We don’t talk to each other more than what we need to. Heck the only reason why I know how their actual voices sound like is through their work calls and once a week meeting. And then we just listen to the team leader with an occasional opinion here and there. I go back to my desk, put on my headphones, start of my work playlist before opening my emails. Fifty emails. Oh this is going to be a busy day.

I leave the office at five thirty five and catch the train at six. I hate my evening travels. The train is always ridiculously busy from the get go and the promise of a nice seat is like a pipe dream. I walk to the front of the train as not many people do so. The chance of an actual seat goes up. My strategy stands to be correct as the front cabin is only a third full and I score a relatively nice seat with some type of view of my other passengers. I glance around. Who am I going to write about? Whose story do I want to create? I bite my lip, no one is catching my eye. It happens from time to time, especially after a busy work day. Just as I’m about to surrender to my writers block, the passenger sitting across of me coughs. I glance up and the familiar spark of inspiration forms a story in my head.

***

I’ve experienced many things in my life. The good and the bad. Throughout my time I’ve loved so many times and I’ve cried even more. At the tender age of seventy five I can say with great pride that I lived a good life. It was exciting. Exhilarating. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I would redo every single thing if it means my end destination would be the same.

I met Vanessa when I was six years old. We just moved into the neighborhood and I was exploring the surroundings. I was a curious child, adventurous according to my mother. I wanted to explore and see new things. My mother used to say I had ants in pants. I could never sit still. Constantly out and about. Vanessa had the same characteristics so it was no surprise to find her deep in the small woodsy park in the neighborhood. She saw me first and over the years she said that it was in that very moment she fell in love at first sight. At the age of six with no idea what love is, she fell in love. I was scaling up the tree with as much grace I could muster in my dress when she spoke.

“Hey, what are you doing up there?” My fright nearly threw me off balance but luckily my reflexes was quick to save me from a tumble down the tree.

“I’m looking for fairy houses.” I replied with so much certainty that there was no doubt fairies existed.

“Oh can I help you look?” Before I could even respond, the little girl with mud on her face climbed the tree with confidence and skill I’ve never seen before. She quickly joined my side with a bright smile on her face.

“How does the fairy houses look like?” She asked, looking up into the tree branches above our heads.

“Look for lights coming out of the tree. They have the birds drill holes into the tree and make their house in there.” She nodded before carefully examining the tree bark at her hands.

“Keep an eye out for squirrels. Fairies love to ride on the back of squirrels. Sometimes they even share a home.”

“Oh wow that’s amazing! I want to be a fairy too!”

“My mommy says if you see one you can ask to become one. If you’re a good girl the fairy will grant your wish!” She cheered before climbing over the branch above our heads. She looked down and smiled.

“Are you coming Goldilocks?”

“My name is Sam not Goldilocks silly!” She laughed before shaking her head.

“My name is Vanessa but you can call me Pug.”

“Pug? What’s that?”

“I don’t know! I just like the name!” I laughed and shook my head. What a silly girl. We’re going to be best friends forever.

How right I was. Throughout our entire childhood we stood together, dreaming about future adventures and planning our big trip. Vanessa’s parents were church people, very strict. The more they tried to control her, the more she tried to escape. We were sixteen when she knocked on my window in the middle of the night. It was a normal occurrence for us. She would come over after a fight with her parents and spend the night. We would lay next to each other, our eyes never straying from the map we created on my roof. We would spend the night talking about all the places we’re going to visit one day. That night was different. She brought a backpack with a handful of money, a few clothes and two train tickets. Even though my household was normal and happy, with one glance to the second ticket I knew. I dropped everything, packed my own bag, left a note and followed her out of my window.

“Are you ready for an adventure of a lifetime?” Vanessa glanced over her shoulder. I laughed before taking her hand.

“Let’s go see the world pug!” She smiled a bright smile, finally free. It was raining that night and as we ran to the train station hand in hand, our big adventure began.

The first few years was truly interesting. We struggled to make ends meet, nights will go by where the only roof above our heads is that of a train station. We thought about going home many times in the beginning but we never left our journey. We had our first kiss on top of the mountain of Corfu, Greece at only nineteen years old. It was a surprise to the both of us. Our close knit friendship slowly shaped into something so much more. A relationship of that of soul mates. It was strange in the beginning. Back then gay relationships were frowned upon, a sin. You hid yourself and kissed behind closed doors. Vanessa was anything but ashamed about our relationship and refused to hide. She would kiss me whenever and wherever the moment would strike. We stayed in the town we shared our kiss the longest. Corfu was such a beautiful place with incredible landscapes and secret beaches straight out of paradise.

In the next five years we traveled all over Europe, never staying in one town for longer than three months. We earned money by singing and dancing on the streets. Sometimes we would get a short term job but we never separated. My favorite job was our three months with the circus. We met so many interesting people and performed acts with beyond talented people. It was a magical time which ended abruptly when the circus tent burned down. In the moment of chaos and panic all of our bags got stolen and we were stuck without a single cent to our names. Luckily our passports were safe and sound in our security box at the train station. We quickly moved onto the next town which was unfortunately a town with strict beliefs who hated our sinful union. They frowned upon it and chased us away like witches in the middle of the night. It was a scary ordeal but Vanessa positively and excitable steered us to a new town. After seven years of exploring the European countries we moved to Asia where we lived under the radar without a Visa permit. It was extremely difficult in the beginning, the language and culture so new and strange to us but in the year we lived there we explored so many places. We were constantly on the move, staying with locals who would take us in and following other travelers to new places. After our third close call with the law we came back to the little town where our love started, Corfu. There we settled down, got married and spend our days in the mountains and our small private beach.

Vanessa got sick when we were thirty five. Stage three breast cancer. We embarked a new journey where we fought cancer together. Through every chemo appointment. Through every sick night. Through every test. We stuck together and gave it a real good fight however after two years we lost. The night Vanessa died, my soul died with her. She was my everything and with her gone I had nothing left. With no desire for the little town we loved so much, I moved back to the town where it all started. I had no desire to travel, to see and experience new things. For the next thirty years I dreamt about the wonderful time I had in my youth. I eventually married another to fight the emptiness. He was a lovely man who couldn’t tell his family about his true desires. I agreed to the loveless marriage for the sake of not growing old alone. Over the years he became a great friend but no matter what changed, I missed Vanessa wholeheartedly. We never had children. We kept to ourselves and never traveled. I preferred it that way. My days passed with books about adventures I once lived and memories forever trapped in pictures.

Two days ago, my husband asked for a divorce. He was tired of hiding his true self. He was finally ready to come out of the closet and marry the man of his dreams. I happily signed the papers and packed my bags. Seeing the love and spark in the eyes of the man I grew old with, made something become alive deep inside my very being. With a backpack filled with our journals, a handful of clothes, I bought the same train ticket Vanessa bought so many years before. I smiled happily as I stared out of the window with the ticket to Corfu in my hands. I’m coming for you my precious pug.

***

The familiar ding of the announcement pulled me out of my thoughts. I saved the document, closed my laptop and flashed the old lady a smile. True love does exist. The train rolled to a stop and I hastily rushed home. Supernatural should have a new episode online and the last episode was an absolute horrible cliffhanger. The Spaghetti leftovers is just going to hit the spot and not to mention I get to cuddle with my furless Fluffy. I smiled. There is nothing like coming home after some time has passed.

Find the next chapter here — https://fitcouchpotato.com/2018/04/01/the-girl-writing-in-the-train-chapter-three-writing-corner/

The Girl Writing In The Train

The Girl Writing In The Train | Chapter One | Writing Corner

Welcome to my latest category; writing corner. To catch up please go read this page — https://fitcouchpotato.com/writing-corner/  It will explain what this category is about. Now that you know what’s what, thank you so much for reading. This is my first story for this category and I’m beyond excited for this new concept. Please enjoy!

PS All of the chapters will be the first draft. If you see any mistakes (grammar and spelling mistakes that slips through) please comment down below. I want to improve my writing and I will take all the help I can get.

Chapter One

My routine is painstakingly ordinary. Every day is the exact same thing. I wake up five minutes before my alarm, get dressed and run to the train. I catch the same train every single morning and then spend seventy five minutes starring at my fellow passengers or out of the window wishing that it could still be the weekend. I’m anything but a social butterfly. I live alone in my little apartment on the seventh floor with my cat, Fluffy. I might not have friends or a partner but I have a sense of humor to get me through. My cat is a Sphynx cat or in everyday language, the hairless cat that looks like a large rat. I used to worry my parents growing up. I was that child who would lock herself in her room and spend hours reading or watching TV shows. I like my own company, heck I prefer it. My parents were convinced I would turn into some crazy cat lady or a serial killer. At the moment my boredom with life and hatred for other humans has yet reached the point of the latter. Contradictory to my mother’s belief, I get lonely. Just because I don’t enjoy social interaction doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. Well it applies to certain degree. I don’t understand myself sometimes.

Being forced to surround myself with strangers 75 minutes or 150 minutes in total every single weekday has been quite an interesting experience. I always find myself wondering; what’s their story? Where do they come from? What are they thinking? What are they feeling? Where are they going? As I seriously doubt they would answer these questions even if I somehow magically get the willpower to ask. I create my own world for them. I answer my unsaid questions. For 75 minutes I create their entire life; past, present and sometimes future. Once I reach my destination their stories ends. In my head they no longer exist. The train ride back home I will pick another fellow passenger that catches my attention to create a story for them. For the next 75 minutes their world is mine to shape. This morning was no different.

I wake up before my alarm and stare at my roof for five minutes, my mind reeling with everything but nothing in particular. Fluffy curls up in my hair and gives a little grunt. He always feels the need to voice his disappointment about my early rise. Finally my alarm blares its wake up call catching Fluffy of guard who in returns claws at my neck in fright. He then angrily leaves the bed while I use pure willpower to drag myself out of bed and fight the urge to press the snooze button. I get the usual sting in my eyes as I put on my bedroom light. I then begrudgingly proceed to pull of my layers of clothing only to replace it by another set of layers of clothing, more presentable of course. If only society and my work place would accept my singing cat pajamas as proper attire. Once dressed I drag myself to my bathroom to splash cold water in my face and to brush my teeth. I comb and style my hair and by styling I mean a side braid my left side and just leave the rest alone. I then moisturize my dry face with my favorite day cream. Around this time my second alarm for the morning rings. Before leaving the bathroom I give myself one spray of strawberry scented perfume. Once in the living room I hastily pull on my shoes, stock up my bag with my lunch and laptop, check Fluffy’s food and water supply before giving him one kiss goodbye and then I’m off. Putting on my usual morning playlist as I take the stairs down. The elevator has been broken for two years. I hiss like a cat when the cold air nips at my face before sprinting to the train station fifteen minutes away. I could probably time out my morning travel better but honestly my morning sprints is the only exercise I get and I have to balance out the pizza somehow.

I check in, slide through the herd of people to my train line, take the stairs and catch my train with one minute to spare. Luckily my stop is the first on the train route so without a doubt there is a chair available somewhere. Throughout the last two years I’ve managed to get the same chair every morning. At this point they should just reserve it for me. It’s at the back of the cabin in the right-hand corner. It gives me the perfect vantage point. It gives me the perfect opportunity to choose my next character.

It takes me one stop, five minutes into my train travel time to find the right character. This morning it’s a young women with long blonde hair. Her face is flushed – she must have ran for the train. A frown is etched deeply on her face. She is worried about something. I can run with that. I open my laptop, change my playlist to my usual jazz station, and just let inspiration guide me through her life.

***

It’s been a constant strings of downs recently. Something happens that completely knocks me off my feet and just as I think I can deal with it and start moving on from the blow, something else happens. It’s like I’m trying to swim against the current in the ocean. Just as I move two inches ahead, a wave or a strong currents knocks me right back. Heck sometimes its pulls me under and by pure willpower I manage to get back above water. With every knock my body grows weaker. I’m getting tired. How long I can keep swimming is completely unknown. I can feel that I’m close to my breaking point. A complete mental breakdown is in my foreseeable future. That’s for sure.

These past three weeks has been the worst three weeks of my short life. First my grandmother died. It didn’t catch my off guard, she was a very old and frail women but damn do I love her so much. I still can’t completely wrap my head around the fact that she’s no longer around. She’s always been there for me. I have to fight back the tears at her memory. She will be missed that’s for sure. Not even three days after she passed in her sleep, I got my test results. Five hundred and sixty seven points. I failed my exam by three fucking points. Three points. Yes that is three ones. The fact that it would take me three months to retake the exam and what this delay means for my job just finished the knock with a big red cherry on top of the shitty cake life is currently baking for me. I’m not a superstitious person but it’s safe to say that three isn’t my lucky number. Three days after my results came online I got post in the mail. The downstairs apartment heater burst. When repairing the pipeline the repairman discovered an underlying problem which would mean the entire building heater pipeline needs to be fixed. It basically means a month at best without any heat and construction workers throughout the entire day. They tried to lessen the blow by lowering our rent but it stills sucks. It’s fucking freezing and a proper heater is ridiculously expensive. It sure as hell doesn’t help that they need to put the electricity off in the entire building while working on the pipeline which basically means whatever food you have in your fridge will probably go bad. You would think because it’s so cold outside the cooler temperature inside the house would work as a fridge and keep your food cool. Unfortunately luck is anything but on my side.

Three days after this letter, I get another wonderful blow from work. The potential client who I’ve been breaking my back to win over the last month decided to go another route. Even though I did practically everything to please this guy, my boss still felt compelled to blame me for their choice. He was anything but pleased with my work performance. Not only did I fail a very easy test – his words not mine – I lost a big client. Thinking that hey life can’t possibly get worse, Sunday arrives with such a big knock that I nearly drowned.

I went out to see another client and although I meant to go back to the office to catch up on some extra work, I decided to head to Gareth’s place. With my crazy workload I haven’t been able to see my boyfriend in weeks. I figured hey I have a hour to spare. Let’s quickly pop in and surprise him with a early dinner. I go out of my way to stop at our favorite pizza place before begrudgingly speed walking through the rain to his apartment. I let myself in as I’ve done so many times before. I sit the pizza down on the kitchen counter and put the lights on as I walk through the apartment. Is he sleeping? A grunt leads me to his bedroom. What on earth is he doing? Before I could even brain storm what action is behind the sound, his grunt is followed by a moan. A women’s moan. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he is doing. Pure hot anger runs through  my veins as I slam open his bedroom door. My best guess was correct. The piece of shit clearly doesn’t know the meaning of a faithful relationship. With a battle cry that could scare a bear, I use all my upper body strength to throw his most prized trophy above the bed. It goes straight through half of his wall and the sound halts their movements. He looks up and I take great satisfaction is the pure horror crossing his features. He jumps up and frantically covers himself spewing excuses over his actions.

“I’m sorry! It didn’t mean anything!”

“It only happened once!”

“It was an accident!” Oh yeah sure because you just tripped and entered her. I mean sure that happens in real life. I turn around, grab my pizza and slam the door shut. I kept my cool all the way to the station. It was only when I sat down that I started to cry. Full blown sobbing. A year of my life down the drain.

For the next three days I try my utmost best to accept what happened and move on from it but the fact that the piece of shit already changed his Facebook status and proudly declared his actions and new bae to our shared Facebook friends sure as hell didn’t help the sting. At this point I chant to myself that it can’t possibly get worse. It’s been two weeks of hell. It’s going to get better now however life felt like it hasn’t done enough to bring me to my knees. It throws food poisoning into the mix. A very bad case of it too. The whole nine yards; nausea, vomiting, watery and bloody diarrhea, abdominal pain and cramp and a fever that made me hallucinates. The doctor booked me off work for two days but my boss being the complete and utter asshole he is send me work I can do from home while I deal with my heartbreak – his words. He also proceeded to take my two sicks days from my vacation days. Just as I recovered a great big red truck hit me like a ton of bricks. Figuratively of course although literally isn’t farfetched with how life is going at the moment. I’ve missed my period. Double checking the calendar tells me that I’ve missed my shark week by two weeks. I do the math and the color drains from my face. Oh god. I can’t. I just can’t. Realizing that I’m two weeks late at 9pm at night can really ruin things. Unable to rest, I detour out in the dangerous night at the nearby gas station. Hopefully they have it. I don’t know if you could consider it lucky but the gas station had the test – in a trusted brand as well – and I didn’t get mugged on my journey. Once home I pee on the little stick that could possibly change my entire life and waited the nail biting three minutes. The timer rang and I begrudgingly glanced down at the test. Two lines. Positive. No. No. No. I can’t be pregnant. After rocking myself for who knows how long on my bathroom floor; I’ve managed to accept or well wrap my head around the latest news. Twenty three, single and pregnant.

For the rest of the night I sit awake, browsing the internet about pregnancy, the joy of being a single young mother and how to magically grow a money tree. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that I’m going to need help. Although the idea of crawling back to my parents and begging for their help feels like another knock to the gut, I realize that there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t control life. Sometimes stuff happens for a reason, right? As my morning alarm goes off for work; I realize I never even slept and I have a ten hour working day ahead of me. Running to catch my train I begged life to just give me a break. Just give me four days to figure shit out. Please number three. Set me free.

***

I save the document before closing my laptop. Damn this girl had three weeks from hell.

“Arriving at Newcrest station in two minutes. This is the end station of the train. Please take all your belongings when you leave. Don’t forget to check out and have a lovely day.” I should probably give her a happy ending although giving all my characters happy endings isn’t my style. I put my laptop in its bag and start the process of putting on my coat. I glance in the direction of the worried lady and think to myself; ‘I hope your next three weeks goes by without a hitch.’

Find the next chapter here — https://fitcouchpotato.com/2018/03/11/the-girl-writing-in-the-train-chapter-two-writing-corner/