MARY

 

She scribbled a quick note ‘grocery shopping’ before having a quick sip of hot chocolate. The tempest brewing outside shrouded the town in a ghostly aura with its rundown apartments and cobbled streets. Snuggling into the Laz-Boy, the scented candles glimmered faintly. The candlestick positioned precariously on an oblong rusted metal stand, spiders occupied the tiny chinks of meticulously carved Buddha as cobwebs spread endlessly over icicles of melted wax. The air smelled like strawberry spice. 

Stacks of test papers were gathering dust for over a month. Just the thought of papers made her miserable; she dug deeper into the Laz-Boy. She insisted that her ex-husband take the mustard sofa with him when he moved out a month ago. “It’s sagging and frayed all over”. She never once admitted even to herself that she loved the sofa, which was perfect for 9 PM winter writing sessions. Dew drops dotted the three-pane bay window like diamonds studded on an exquisite neckpiece. A firefly shrieked helplessly before the flame consumed it.

Pulling the hood on, she slipped into her worn-out Doc Martens. As she made her way in the drizzle, wiper blades flapping incessantly, the car engine revved.  Relieved that the parking area was not crowded; she got down as her phone pinged:

EMAIL: fosteryjobs.com

Pleased to inform you that you have been called to interview NF.

Her whole body went numb. Is this a hoax? A spam message. She had registered on the fosteryjobs.com website many years ago to keep up with the hustle culture and was driven insane at the very moment. An offer letter was attached. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared hard at the email. Forever. Somewhere in the distance, she heard keys clanging and hurried footsteps before someone almost knocked her down.

“I am sorry…. What are you doing ? over here?”, a familiar voice she quickly recognized as her ex-husband.

“I have to interview NF”, she blurted out, hands fidgeting.

“What, NF..” he mumbled hazily.

Her tangled curls drifted in the wind as she pulled her hoodie closer to her body.

“The rap artist we used to listen to, I got an email just now”, she added hastily as he gave an unbelieving smirk.

“okay”, gazing disinterestedly across the sliver cars in the driveway. Numerous rivulets trickled down the parking shelter. She hurried back to her car.

“Wait”, he yelled “your keys are with me”

“How’s writing going?”

“A lonely adventure” she asserted

The rain drummed heavily as water slid down the corrugated red brick tiles. Could we do any better? Do we get wiser as we grow? Miser.

Who has seen it all? Ocean.

 

 

Raindrops perched on an

Oblong grass blade