Closet-Dwellers

1: People against people

 Why is writing a report so hard, especially when you are really, REALLY, really trying to focus on it, and your brain either decides to:

1. Pick this exact moment in time to do its annual spring cleaning, and get rid of things that you have previously deemed ‘a waste of consideration.’ I mean how, was I supposed to know that we were going to be writing a report about ‘Living things…?’ I’m so going to fail science.

2. Go on super-hyper-drive mode where you think of everything but the thing you want to think about. For example: right now -I’m trying to think about my report- but my brothers are screaming from the living room, and me and loud noises don’t mix.

And finally…

3. I like the number 3

See, the struggles of being the only girl with 2 remotely uglier brothers than you, and a younger brother who’s prettier than you. Sigh, it almost as if the older you get, the uglier you become. I wish I won’t turn out like my mum… okay, that was way off topic. My report, yes because a responsible student would make sure to finish their assignments on time, and not save it until the last minute, idiots. Exactly, why I do it before school –I mean- at least you have half an hour, right?

With the ball-point pen fixed into my left hand, I’m sitting hunched over the kitchen table. I release my propped up right hand, to gather my few blank pages. Oh well, I’ll just do it at school. Pondering this question, I have now realised that since I was too consumed in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed that the house is quiet, for once. Finally, maybe now I can- . Dammit. No, they couldn’t of-

Crap. My brothers are gone. Disregarding my ‘assignment’ I dropped everything and rushed to the front windows, viciously attacked the curtains and-

Double crap. I have no ride, I won’t have time to finish this off before Schoo- well, start on it I guess. Hmmm, what now? Man, I was really depending on those idiots on giving me a lift, since dad and mum left earlier. Dammit. I squint at my watch, praying that time will be on my side today… and yes it is. Sweet, I have half an hour left, so if I bus I will be able to make it.

While adjusting my bag strap with my right hand, I steadily closed the door with my left elbow, since my folders occupy most of my left hand and arm. As I make my way through the gate, and onto the sidewalk –watching out for the cracks- I’m starting to wonder when was the last time I cached the bus. It feels like forever, and yet the bus stop is just a corner turn away. When I reach there, coincidently the bus arrives, it’s good, because it saves me from having to pull out my phone and pretend I’m texting ‘important’ people.

I gave the bus driver the right amount of change, and shuffled head down to an open seat. Luckily for me, this bus isn’t as packed. I shuffle over to one of the middle sections, and slide over to the window seat, plopped my stuff on the seat beside me, and waited.

I’m watching the familiar houses and shops, blurred by the light graze of rain that slowly appeared from thin air, when something catches my attention when we pull into another stop.

The slight drizzle has lifted, but still the rain droplets are slowly racing one another on the tinted glass windows, and yet I still see it. I still see him.