One word writing prompts: SIL

Word Seven: Slump [rf]

I saw a random lady standing at the zebra crossing during math class and got ✨ideas✨

Tw: Cigarettes (don't smoke guys)

Second person pov: (hehe I'm bringing this back)

Songs I listened to:

https://youtu.be/FgrZio0KwRc?si=xVREBFQC-VEtUc7F

--ш--

Adjusting the plastic bags adorning your arms, you stand at a traffic crossing, awaiting the green light. You wear simple clothing, hair caught in a knot at the top of your head.

Do you have everything? Bread, check. Groceries for the next week, check. A pack of cigarettes that your husband'll probably blow through today, check.

Why is the light taking so long to switch?

You didn't want your life to turn out this way. After all, does anyone really want to be married to an alcoholic, bound by two children? The younger you would have wanted to settle down with a nice man, who actually loved you.

Sorry, me.

You sigh, leaning against the traffic light. It seems like your own two legs can no longer support your weight, let alone the weight of a whole family. You were young. Stupid. Wanting to rush into things.

There is a beeping sound that shakes you from your reverie. Looking up, you see that it's the traffic light, flashing green.

You like the feeling of walking. It's grounding, keeping you tethered to the earth. It feels nice, putting yourself to mindless work. Just keep walking.

You often feel like you're in a dream. The world just passes you by, a blur of monotone light grey.

You're stuck in a slump, a downward struggle. You'd like to escape- wouldn't we all- but you can't.

You're fine.

"Hey, lady!" You stop, hearing someone call out to you.

Turning, you grace them with a practiced smile, one that should avoid conflict, one that you've spent many years practicing in the mirror, since you were twelve and they bullied you for not being smart enough, pretty enough, girly enough, for being too sassy, too quick-witted, too you.

The man who called does not seem impressed.

"Look, you can smile at me all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're lying."

The smile almost drops. You thought you perfected the smile a long time ago, when he proposed, and you had to say yes.

What should you say? He's probably expecting a response.

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't answer.

You keep walking in that dreamlike state. The plastic bags cut into your arms, but you ignore them, like you ignore him and that thought. Isn't that the only way to go through life properly?

You walk a little longer, reaching the front door of your apartment. You hesitate a little, hand on the doorknob. His words ring in your head.

You shake your head, trying to knock those wrong thoughts out of it. The door creaks open, and you step in.

"Mummy, you're home!"

Your daughter's voice reaches your ears, and it stays there.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. 回来了。(I've returned.)"

Unfortunately.

"你买了什么？(What did you buy?)"

"很多东西。(Many things.)"

Luckily, she doesn't ask you to elaborate, and you can continue to walk.

You unpack slowly, taking your time. You don't want to face your husband.

Taking your hair out of its high knot, you shrug, letting it cascade over your back. You miss the feeling of being free, of doing whatever you want. Letting your hair do it will suffice.

A manila card sits on the kitchen counter, one that you haven't noticed before.

You flip it over, careful not to stain it with your wet fingers.

I can help you.

That's what's written on it, printed in dark ink.

Somehow, you know who it's from.

--ш--

ODSFFNPAOINFPOAIDNOIADVAIODF

PAIEHG:OAIDJFJ{AOJFD

I JUST GOT COMPLIMENTED ON IT

*dies*