I've gotten familiar with these seemingly ongoing houses. The lady who tends to her dying garden every Thursday in number 28, the couple with the almond coloured kitten and their rusty front gate in number 32 and the old woman who has four grandchildren running around her corner convenience store in 34, I feel like I've known them my entire life. As we take a right past the opening door of the convenience store, the oldest grandchild walks out with her younger sister in her arms and waves to my mother. My mother is well liked around this part of town, she knows the ins and outs, that's exactly how she came about my counsellor, he's nice and all, but counselling is not my thing. I've attended for roughly two months and there is no change.
I pause for a short while to gather myself before I exit the car and enter into the pits of "these pills will help if you try them". The waiting room isn't flash, it isn't very bright either with one dull light slightly hanging from the ceiling and whatever sunlight makes its way through the blurry glass window to then help illuminate the unused room. I don't sit, I just walk straight through the hallway and into the office to then take my normal seat on the opposite side of the cheap wooden desk. Three minutes have passed until my counsellor walks through the door and takes his seat directly opposite me. The conversation is the same, almost scripted by now. By the end he has told me that "these pills help if you try them" about six times, and I always give him a blank look in return. After every meeting, my mum reassures me that she still has hope and asks if I want to walk home, like usual, I say yes. To get home I take the short cut behind all the houses and over the train line, it's the quickest and I don't come in contact with any life forms.
The route home was simple, the last hurdle was the train line. I always make it in time for a train, slowing down my journey. I stand in wait and can hear the roar as the train flies down the track, not long now. I tap my foot, urging it to hurry up. When it is only metres away I sigh a breathe of relief, and take my last step in front of it.
My mother had hope, but I didn't.
Yaaay so I like this very short story hopefully you guys do as well 😁😁 please comment any feedback, I appreciate it.
