Untitled
The Start
She sat. Hunched over her knees on the couch and leaning on her elbow, her teeth gently scraping across the edge of a chipping thumb nail. Every minute or so her hand would move up and her middle finger would push red rimmed glasses back up her nose.
A glowing green circle beeped from the shadow on the corner of her desk as steam danced past piles of tagged magazines and highlighted papers toward the open window and the must of a dark roast brew filled the cluttered room. A green sprout reached out of its small red pot toward the light cast on the only corner of the desk not overflowing with books and publication essays. A trail of highlighters led away from the desk and from the futon piled with clothes to the bright red couch on which she sat merely three feet away. The overcast sun shone on a chipped plate holding two wheat crusts with drops of solidified colby jack cheese placed next to her, accentuating the crumbs that littered the red leather when they rolled to pile together after she shifted her weight.
Her laptop lay open on the computer stool in front of her. On the keyboard rested another paper loaded with post it notes and filled with the scrawl of her writing in every available margin space. The two highlighters that survived the trip sat next to an empty ballpoint pen in the hinge of the laptop. She grabbed the clunky black television remote placed on the paper next to the mouse and hurriedly turned up the volume.
A clean cut man in a blue zip suit sat in a large bright room. The size of the screen prevented the details of the display behind him, but she could just make out the tip of a small rocket by his left shoulder. Her deep eyes darted across the screen but her ears listened intently to his slow deliberate speech. She knew what he was going to say. What the point of this presentation was; she dedicatedly kept up with their news. But that didn't make this moment any less important to her or the country-even if they didn't understand the significance yet.
She knew. She was excited. She was ready.
She thought.
Her eyes fixed on the four letters embroidered into his suit. Four letters that inspired people around the world. The four letters that she wanted to dedicate her entire life to. He kept talking in a deep and methodical cadence that had her heart racing. A cool wet drop pattered against the window as the grey sky thundered. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as the man nodded before the reporter thanked him and moved on to a story about local supermarkets and he disappeared from the screen.
He was gone, but the four letters always remained with her. Even though taped onto her closet door was a five foot poster displaying floating galaxies in a black sky and the four letters in the top right corner had faded into the background of the picture long ago for her. Those letters were her focus and her dream.
NASA
A glowing green circle beeped from the shadow on the corner of her desk as steam danced past piles of tagged magazines and highlighted papers toward the open window and the must of a dark roast brew filled the cluttered room. A green sprout reached out of its small red pot toward the light cast on the only corner of the desk not overflowing with books and publication essays. A trail of highlighters led away from the desk and from the futon piled with clothes to the bright red couch on which she sat merely three feet away. The overcast sun shone on a chipped plate holding two wheat crusts with drops of solidified colby jack cheese placed next to her, accentuating the crumbs that littered the red leather when they rolled to pile together after she shifted her weight.
Her laptop lay open on the computer stool in front of her. On the keyboard rested another paper loaded with post it notes and filled with the scrawl of her writing in every available margin space. The two highlighters that survived the trip sat next to an empty ballpoint pen in the hinge of the laptop. She grabbed the clunky black television remote placed on the paper next to the mouse and hurriedly turned up the volume.
A clean cut man in a blue zip suit sat in a large bright room. The size of the screen prevented the details of the display behind him, but she could just make out the tip of a small rocket by his left shoulder. Her deep eyes darted across the screen but her ears listened intently to his slow deliberate speech. She knew what he was going to say. What the point of this presentation was; she dedicatedly kept up with their news. But that didn't make this moment any less important to her or the country-even if they didn't understand the significance yet.
She knew. She was excited. She was ready.
She thought.
Her eyes fixed on the four letters embroidered into his suit. Four letters that inspired people around the world. The four letters that she wanted to dedicate her entire life to. He kept talking in a deep and methodical cadence that had her heart racing. A cool wet drop pattered against the window as the grey sky thundered. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as the man nodded before the reporter thanked him and moved on to a story about local supermarkets and he disappeared from the screen.
He was gone, but the four letters always remained with her. Even though taped onto her closet door was a five foot poster displaying floating galaxies in a black sky and the four letters in the top right corner had faded into the background of the picture long ago for her. Those letters were her focus and her dream.
NASA