Saving Sarah Smith

Chapter 1

Her name was Sarah Smith. I was 18 when I fell in love with her.

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I woke up and got out of bed, at 6:30 just like every other day. My hands automatically reached over to my nightstand for my glasses to place them on the bridge of my nose, where they have made a little indent on the edge from late night reading. After showering I got dressed a simple t-shirt and skinny jeans, slipped on my converse and walked downstairs.

“Morning Michael,” my mother said to me as she passed me a plate with plain toast on it.

“Morning,” I smiled and took a bite out of my toast.

My mother left the kitchen after placing her hand gently on my shoulder, and I was left with my simple breakfast and readings. I opened up my copy of Pride and Prejudice. My edition was tattered and torn, but I loved it so much. I was always a bookworm, receiving a set of European classics for my tenth birthday. I have read a bit of Pride and Prejudice or some other book with my breakfast everyday. It relaxes me, lets my brain explode into the world of Jane Austen time and time again.

I finished off my toast and closed my book, walking towards the bathroom. Thoroughly brushing my teeth and quiffing up my dark hair, I finish getting ready and walk out to the kitchen, grabbing my lunch and my bag off of the counter.

“Bye mom,” I say over my shoulder and walk out to my 2003 Toyota Corolla. My bag found itself sitting in the passenger seat, and I sat myself in the drivers seat. I drive to school, not that concerned with my time, and park in the student lot. Grabbing my bag, I walk to the large tree in the courtyard and sit down with my book. I look down at my watch and, like usual, I have half an hour to read before I need to walk to my first class.