Cynthia had thought long and hard about her decision, and discovered that she regretted nothing.
Nothing at all.
She looked across the grimy table to the seat opposite her. The train pulled out of the station and Cynthia sipped her coffee.
It was very quiet.
She glanced at the newspaper she'd bought with the change she'd recieved from her coffee.
Thursday 8th July.
She hoped Marc was okay.
Why was she even thinking about him?!
She shook her head and flicked open the paper and started to read. One article caught her eye: "A Traitor's Hospital?!" This can't be good: thought Cynthia.
Indeed, the hospital she'd left the night before was well-known to have treated criminals in the past, and, according to the paper had "admitted a traitor into its midst on the 6th of July. Another person suspected of traitorous actions against life was being questioned and is, for the foreseeable future, unavaliable to comment."
Fuck, that had to be Marc. Crap, he was ill for fucks sake! You can't put him into questioning? Who the hell did they think they were? Life?!
Only when people started to stare at her weirdly did Cynthia realise she probably said that aloud.
Or it could be due to the fact she was staring at a blown-up picture in the newspaper of herself.
A WANTED poster.
Shit.
They'd got her on a bad hair day.
YOU ARE READING
Working Progress
ActionA story about a girl whose life doesn't seem to give her any answers, and where life itself wants to control her. Needless to say she tries to rebel against it's plan for her.
