No Shit, Sherlock

London

"Must I wear this evil, life sucking contraption?"

"It's your first book signing in London. Of course you have to wear a corset and dress."

My mother ties the strings of my dress tighter, much to my dismay. I just never understood why we women are the ones to wear corsets. We're the ones that give birth. Don't we need all of our organs for that? How are we to have children if our uterus and lungs are busted?

Not that I think all women are to have children, I believe we should be able to choose what we want, especially when it comes to our bodies.

"(Y/n)! Get in the carriage, you're going to be late!" My mother cries out.

She pushes me out the door. My hoop skirt gets stuck in the door frame, but she kicks it until it pops out. The two of us giggle, and I run to the carriage, almost knocking a kid down in the process.

A man stands next to the open carriage, and he offers me his hand, but I refuse. "I think I can get in the carriage myself, but thank you, sir."

I squeeze my way into the carriage, and the man shuts the door. I look through the window to see my mom still standing in the door frame. She gives me a mocking curtsy, so I 'politely' stick my gloved middle finger up at her.

She shakes her head with a smile, and then the carriage roughly jolts forward, causing my head to hit the small window behind me. "That fucking hurt."

My eyes trail back to the window beside me, London truly is beautiful in its own weird way. Back in Texas we didn't have this many buildings, and our roads were mostly dirt. The women here are classier than the women in Texas, which is making it very hard for me to blend in, as I am very much of a Texas woman.

"We're here, Ms. (L/n)."

A man opens the door for me, this time I let him help me out, and he walks me straight into the large bookstore.

There's at least sixty people in line, most of them are women, and when they notice me they begin to cheer. I give them a kind curtsy and walk over to the table where my book is displayed.

"And now, Ms. (L/n), will give her speech."

Speech? I wasn't told I had to do a speech. Just standing here in front of everyone is already stressing me out.

I look around the room and clear my throat nervously. "Thank you all so much for coming here today!"

The crowd cheers.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm absolutely terrified of public speaking, so I'll keep this short and sweet."

Everyone laughs, which helps me calm down some. Only a little bit though.

"I never intended on publishing this book, it was actually all from my own personal journal where I wrote all of my thoughts and feelings down when my parents first got divorced."

A little girl grabs her mother's hand, the two of them sharing a sad smile.

"But one day I dropped my journal while running through my town. I didn't know I had lost it until a man came knocking on my door with my journal in his hand. He introduced himself as the head of 'Smithson Publishing' and asked to speak with me," I smile at the memory.

"He asked if I wanted to publish my journal as a poetry book, I thought he was insane and rejected his offer. However, I am very grateful for Mr. Smithson and his stubbornness because after two months I finally decided to publish it."

I grab the displayed copy of my book, my fingers tracing the spine slowly. "If it wasn't for Mr. Smithson and all of you wonderful readers I wouldn't be standing here in London speaking with all of you. So, thank you, I truly mean it. And I hope you will all continue to love 'The Words Of A Silent Woman'."

The crowd cheers loudly, I walk back to the signing table and sit down. There's a man standing by the door, a pipe hangs out of his mouth, and his hands are shoved into his pockets.

I watch him curiously as his eyes scan the crowd in front of him, our eyes eventually meet and he quickly pushes his way out of the store.

What a strange man.

The first woman in line places her book on the table excitedly, "I'm such a big fan! I've read your book fifteen times now."

"Thank you very much, I hope it was just as meaningful the fifteenth time as it was the first," I say with a laugh.

I sign her book and the next person comes forward.

~~°°••°°~~

"I'm very thankful for everything I have, especially the people that read my book, but my wrist feels like it's gonna fall off!"

I flap my wrist around while my mother unties my corset. I can see her annoyed expression in the reflection of the mirror in front of me.

"Keep flapping your hand at me and I'll chop it off myself," she says.

I pull the remainder of the horrid dress off of me and immediately begin putting my pants and blouse on. "The worst part was that I had to give a speech! I didn't even have one written and you know how much I hate speaking in front of crowds."

"It's all done and over with now, (Y/n). That was your last book signing until you finish the next book," she says with a sigh.

"If I finish the next book, I still have five more poems to write, and absolutely no inspiration."

"I'm sure something will inspire that great mind of yours."

I fall on to the couch dramatically, my face squishes into the fluffy pillow. My mom sits at my feet, "Perhaps a job will do you some good."

"A job? I think the book has made us plenty of money, mom."

She shoves me off the couch, "Not for money, for inspiration! We've been in London for a month now, and the only time you've left this house is when you're doing book signings or shopping with me. It's time you go out and explore. Make some friends, find a boyfriend-"

"Mooom, you know how much I dislike other people! Especially the male ones."

She helps me stand up and brushes my hair out of my face. "It's time you show the world who you are, not just through your words, but through your actions as well."

"Fine. I'll start looking tomorrow."

She slaps my cheeks jokingly, "Perfect! Now let's go eat dinner."