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7:09 AM.
The middle-aged woman fumbles with the brakes on her pram, as the train engine drones monotonously in her ears. Finally satisfied, she allows herself to drift asleep.
Across from her, Sharon shuts her laptop and crosses her stockinged legs. She looks out the train window at the blur of green and silver, then checks her watch.
Still time.
She watches the plainly dressed mother subconsciously nodding. Finding it hypnotic, she almost dozes off as well. It had been an exhausting night.
(Or early morning.)
2:03 AM.
Sharon typed mechanically; her fingers attacked the back-space key every now and again. Her tired eyes could no longer make sense of the dollar signs and the meaningless, hollow words. She was sick of this senseless jumble that “needed” to be periodically produced to appease the boss and “keep everything in order”. She took another swig out of her half-empty coffee cup, adjusted her tight bun and massaged her temples.
Her position was at stake.
She sighed, and rubbed her eyes, when her iPhone rang. She answered it with practiced ease.
“How nice of you to pick up.”
A pause, then, “Oh my god, Eric, I –“
“I figured you weren’t gonna come. After hours of patient waiting. But you’re always so organized that you’d never need reminders. I gave in; left. Thought I’d call you, though. For good measure. Knowing you, you’d probably still be awake.” His voice was empty, indifferent.
“…so sorry…” choked Sharon.
“You gotta give yourself a break. Otherwise, you’ll crack. You need to take the time to rewind. Relax.” He sighed, continuing, “I love you. Remember that.”
He hung up.
“I love you too, honestly I…”
Life’s hard.
7:19 AM.
Sharon’s throat clenches at the memory.
Not much point in having money and a secure job – ha, or not – if I’m living as a soulless automaton. Not much point if I can’t hold on to people who matter.
Sharon fidgets with her iPhone. Her finger hovers above “Eric”.
To call, or not to call.
Strangely, she doesn’t feel too keen on hearing his voice or talking with him – not after their last awkward talk. What if they argue? What if she wakes him?
The baby in the pram wails, breaking her reverie. She decides it was probably a good idea not to call; sends a text instead.
She glances out the window again, noting the lack of natural scenery. (Eric would have found this unappealing.) The surroundings become familiar, and Sharon checks her watch out of habit. Her destination stop nears, and the doors slide open.
They open, but Sharon remains rooted to her seat. Some part of her refuses to move. The baby’s bawling grows ever louder – despite her mother’s attempts to soothe it – just like the pounding in her ears.
She can almost hear Eric laughing, “Wow, how rebellious of you. Breaking the rules. You could teach those boring drone colleagues of yours a thing or two.”
The doors close, and the train moves on. A smile creeps across Sharon’s face, while adrenaline pumps throughout her veins.
Probably would have lost the job anyway.
She checks her iPhone to send a new message; some childish part of her begged for Eric’s approval. Eric had already replied:
Guess we both had an all-nighter, huh?
Unfazed, she grins.
Guess I can see you today.
After her baby has quietened down, the mother watches the changes of expression Sharon displays, and politely attempts to tune out of the conversation she’s started on her phone.
She isn’t sure what life might be like if her child were to lead a similar path as the lady in front of her.
It has to be better than mine; hard, little money, no opportunities. Baby needs the best we can give her… can’t let her live a simple, boring life like mine.
She’s weighed the ups and downs of moving to the more populated areas and having a change of lifestyle, but…
Sharon packs her things, still on the phone, still patching things up with Eric. His stop is nearing; perhaps she could surprise him with a visit?
She walks past the mother, and smiles in acknowledgement as the baby blinks innocently up at her.
What a simple, easy life she must lead.
The mother imagines her child growing up to be like Sharon; business-like, classy. Rich.
What a luxurious, splendid life she must lead.
The middle-aged woman fumbles with the brakes on her pram, as the train engine drones monotonously in her ears. Finally satisfied, she allows herself to drift asleep.
Across from her, Sharon shuts her laptop and crosses her stockinged legs. She looks out the train window at the blur of green and silver, then checks her watch.
Still time.
She watches the plainly dressed mother subconsciously nodding. Finding it hypnotic, she almost dozes off as well. It had been an exhausting night.
(Or early morning.)
2:03 AM.
Sharon typed mechanically; her fingers attacked the back-space key every now and again. Her tired eyes could no longer make sense of the dollar signs and the meaningless, hollow words. She was sick of this senseless jumble that “needed” to be periodically produced to appease the boss and “keep everything in order”. She took another swig out of her half-empty coffee cup, adjusted her tight bun and massaged her temples.
Her position was at stake.
She sighed, and rubbed her eyes, when her iPhone rang. She answered it with practiced ease.
“How nice of you to pick up.”
A pause, then, “Oh my god, Eric, I –“
“I figured you weren’t gonna come. After hours of patient waiting. But you’re always so organized that you’d never need reminders. I gave in; left. Thought I’d call you, though. For good measure. Knowing you, you’d probably still be awake.” His voice was empty, indifferent.
“…so sorry…” choked Sharon.
“You gotta give yourself a break. Otherwise, you’ll crack. You need to take the time to rewind. Relax.” He sighed, continuing, “I love you. Remember that.”
He hung up.
“I love you too, honestly I…”
Life’s hard.
7:19 AM.
Sharon’s throat clenches at the memory.
Not much point in having money and a secure job – ha, or not – if I’m living as a soulless automaton. Not much point if I can’t hold on to people who matter.
Sharon fidgets with her iPhone. Her finger hovers above “Eric”.
To call, or not to call.
Strangely, she doesn’t feel too keen on hearing his voice or talking with him – not after their last awkward talk. What if they argue? What if she wakes him?
The baby in the pram wails, breaking her reverie. She decides it was probably a good idea not to call; sends a text instead.
She glances out the window again, noting the lack of natural scenery. (Eric would have found this unappealing.) The surroundings become familiar, and Sharon checks her watch out of habit. Her destination stop nears, and the doors slide open.
They open, but Sharon remains rooted to her seat. Some part of her refuses to move. The baby’s bawling grows ever louder – despite her mother’s attempts to soothe it – just like the pounding in her ears.
She can almost hear Eric laughing, “Wow, how rebellious of you. Breaking the rules. You could teach those boring drone colleagues of yours a thing or two.”
The doors close, and the train moves on. A smile creeps across Sharon’s face, while adrenaline pumps throughout her veins.
Probably would have lost the job anyway.
She checks her iPhone to send a new message; some childish part of her begged for Eric’s approval. Eric had already replied:
why not just call. If I cant
see your face at least I can
hear you. havent seen you
in a month and the best you
have is a text?
Guess we both had an all-nighter, huh?
Unfazed, she grins.
Guess I can see you today.
After her baby has quietened down, the mother watches the changes of expression Sharon displays, and politely attempts to tune out of the conversation she’s started on her phone.
She isn’t sure what life might be like if her child were to lead a similar path as the lady in front of her.
It has to be better than mine; hard, little money, no opportunities. Baby needs the best we can give her… can’t let her live a simple, boring life like mine.
She’s weighed the ups and downs of moving to the more populated areas and having a change of lifestyle, but…
Sharon packs her things, still on the phone, still patching things up with Eric. His stop is nearing; perhaps she could surprise him with a visit?
She walks past the mother, and smiles in acknowledgement as the baby blinks innocently up at her.
What a simple, easy life she must lead.
The mother imagines her child growing up to be like Sharon; business-like, classy. Rich.
What a luxurious, splendid life she must lead.
I wrote this during my Extension One English Trial exam back in 2011, to the theme of 'Navigating the Global'.
Can't remember what the stimulus was! But this was a second version of the older one I uploaded: [link]
What do you think? Which version do you prefer?
Can't remember what the stimulus was! But this was a second version of the older one I uploaded: [link]
What do you think? Which version do you prefer?
© 2013 - 2024 xEmoMuffinx
Comments4
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I really like the rhythm to this piece -- especially where the dialogue was concerned. Nicely done!