Her Dream Catcher

Back when I was a little girl, my English teacher told me that I could be anything that I wanted to be. 

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feel skeptical. The person giving me advice on success was someone who saved up on coupons and never washed his hair. My English teacher, Mr. Wallowitz, was a nut. 

But anyway, he fed my inner hunger. By telling me I could be whatever I wanted, he only further damaged my life. 

Because right now, I'm a mail-woman. Let me explain. During my late teens, I decided to follow my dreams and go to an expensive college. Unfortunately, I couldn't multitask paying my tuition with my studies so, I quit school and had to find a money making job. God, how I regret it.

Now I'm stuck with delivering mail.

And let me tell you, it sucks.

Rotten teenagers make fun of me whenever they see me; my paycheck doesn't support my high mortgage and the gas for my car, and let's not forget that technology is going to wipe mail off the face of the earth one day. All because of those paper conserver's.

Recyclers. I hate them all.

"Here ya are, Ms. Duncan," I said with a winsome smile as I slipped the envelopes into her delicate, porcelain like hands.

Ms. Duncan narrowed her mossy eyes at me. "Who are you?" she asked coldly; her face hardening by the second.

I laughed lightly, thinking that this was a joke. "Ms. Duncan, it's me. Christine. I give you your mail every Tuesday," I said slowly, trying to jog her memory.

"Don't recognize my ride?" I asked, jabbing a thumb towards my car.

She gaped, now realizing who I am. I wasn't expecting what she said next though. "Get the hell off my property!" she screamed, closing the door on my face.

Fuming inside, I kicked her Manila colored door. Jeez. You'd think a mail woman would get some respect. After all, where would you be in life without mail? I rolled my eyes at that as I walked back towards my car.

Now thinking about it, one of the letters that I was carrying was an electricity bill. No wonder. 

I twisted my key into the ignition and reversed out of Ms. Duncan's driveway. I looked down at my GPS, mentally calculating how many miles it would take for me to go home. I estimated around ten minutes. But then again, I never finished college so I could've been an hour or so off.

I took a quick stop at a coffee shop, deciding last minute to get a shot of vanilla. "Screw calories," I miffed under my breath. "I deserve it."

And besides, I could always use my boyfriend, Jackson, as an excuse. Yeah, I bet I had enough to buy Jackson something, too. Like a granola bar.

Opening the glass door of Bean Serene, a chime sounded from above me. I nearly released a groan out loud when I saw the never ending line. Just great. 

I walked towards the back of the line, dodging the small puddles of coffee spilled on the ground.

Chimes rang, signaling that someone either entered or left. I heard a few giggles coming from behind my back. I thought nothing of it until one of them sang mockingly, "Lean, mean mailman Christine!" 

Muttering silent curses under my breath for not changing out of my work clothes, I turned around with a blank expression. "Yes?"

A slightly tall girl stood in front of two of her friends. I could tell that they were friends by their matching bracelets that shimmered under the coffee shop's dim lights.