𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 | 𝑫𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Welcome to the Wild Ride!

Tuesday, September 22

It's finally here: your first day of training at Pony Express Inc.
You stand in front of the mirror, holding up the dreaded work shirt—yellow, emblazoned with the cheesy Pony Express logo on the front, and boxy enough to hide any hint of style.

With a sigh, you slip it on, feeling the scratchy fabric against your skin.
This shirt is everything you swore you'd never wear, but here you are, smoothing it down as best you can.

You pair it flared jeans,
with a rhinestoned belt, hoping
they'll add at least a bit of personality to the outfit, and throw on your trusty Converse, their well-worn soles already molded to your feet for comfort.

Over it all, you pull on a jacket, mentally promising yourself you won't take it off unless absolutely necessary.
In a final attempt to make the look your more fitting, you grab one side of the shirt, tying it at your hip.

You'd checked with Curly about adjusting the uniform, and thankfully, he hadn't cared in the slightest—
he'd even joked that the shirt needed some extra style anyway.

'Kill me now,'
You ponder, eyeing your reflection.

Somehow, the knot gives the shirt a more fitted look, but there's no hiding that bold Pony Express logo.
You tie your hair up, securing it tightly. There's no way you're letting stray hairs distract you today—you've got enough to focus on without battling
a bad hair day.
Taking a deep breath, you grab your bag and head out, steeling yourself for whatever the day might bring.

...

Pony Express Inc.
3:32pm

As you arrive at Pony Express Inc.
you brace yourself, half-expecting the chaos that greeted you
last time—boxes stacked haphazardly, and that one rogue package that nearly sent you sprawling.
But this time, there's no surprise ambush.

The warehouse hums with activity as employees dart back and forth, but the pathway to the entrance is mercifully clear. You let out a small sigh of relief,
feeling a bit more prepared and grounded than before.

You glance around, taking in the surroundings more carefully now.
The scent of cardboard and packing tape fills the air, mixed with the faint smell of coffee from a break room somewhere nearby.

The place is a whirlwind of movement, and yet there's an odd sense of order to it all—a system at work in the bustling flow of packages and people. It's a relief to finally observe it without being interrupted by a toppling stack of parcels.

Walking further in, you can feel a few curious glances from employees who recognize the new face in the crowd. You give a polite nod here and there, silently promising yourself to figure out who's who over time.
For now, though, you keep your focus straight ahead, gripping the strap of your bag as you make your way to the training area.

It feels strange to be back,
but somehow, you're
a little more at ease.

As you step further into the building, you spot Curly standing near a row of sorting tables, clipboard in hand.
He's directing a couple of employees with his usual laid-back grin,
but when he catches sight of you,
his face lights up.