Modern Dreamers
Leaving
or prologue
The windowpane fogged up as Freya softly blew on it. Her warm breath crept across sharpie markings and knife etchings before dissipating quickly. Bus stop shelters never seemed to escape the fate of being brutally vandalised, but Freya supposed it was a reasonable way to kill time when waiting for the often delayed bus. Her arms were tired, carrying a duffle bag and another backpack on her shoulders, and her legs ached from standing for so long. The sun shone but the day was torn between two seasons. Her fingertips were icicles even inside her gloves but she had shrugged her jacket off, feeling too warm for it. Freya tucked her jacket into her already too full duffle bag.
The bus came into view a few moments later and Freya breathed a sigh of relief. She struggled moving down the bus, her bags wanting to hit every pole and person on board.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said with every bump, her cheeks warming up.
“Here, let me help.” A man got up, his hands attempting to lift the duffel bag from her.
“No, it’s alright.” Freya pulled the bag back to herself, perhaps a bit too hard, before pushing her way to the back of the bus, almost leaping onto the seats.
The man sat back in his seat, looking back at Freya but she averted her eyes, too embarrassed to look up. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh.
She hadn’t meant to be here either. Freya always thought she would remain in the town she grew up in for the last 20 years, for another few years at least. She was going to find a steady job, be an adult, leave the house for more than just work. It had taken her this long to finally feel comfortable with her town. But now here she was leaving it all behind to go across the country to another town she didn’t know anything about. Freya hoped she had made the right decision.
The windowpane fogged up as Freya softly blew on it. Her warm breath crept across sharpie markings and knife etchings before dissipating quickly. Bus stop shelters never seemed to escape the fate of being brutally vandalised, but Freya supposed it was a reasonable way to kill time when waiting for the often delayed bus. Her arms were tired, carrying a duffle bag and another backpack on her shoulders, and her legs ached from standing for so long. The sun shone but the day was torn between two seasons. Her fingertips were icicles even inside her gloves but she had shrugged her jacket off, feeling too warm for it. Freya tucked her jacket into her already too full duffle bag.
The bus came into view a few moments later and Freya breathed a sigh of relief. She struggled moving down the bus, her bags wanting to hit every pole and person on board.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said with every bump, her cheeks warming up.
“Here, let me help.” A man got up, his hands attempting to lift the duffel bag from her.
“No, it’s alright.” Freya pulled the bag back to herself, perhaps a bit too hard, before pushing her way to the back of the bus, almost leaping onto the seats.
The man sat back in his seat, looking back at Freya but she averted her eyes, too embarrassed to look up. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh.
She hadn’t meant to be here either. Freya always thought she would remain in the town she grew up in for the last 20 years, for another few years at least. She was going to find a steady job, be an adult, leave the house for more than just work. It had taken her this long to finally feel comfortable with her town. But now here she was leaving it all behind to go across the country to another town she didn’t know anything about. Freya hoped she had made the right decision.
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This is real dumb but I'm kind of excited for this story. This is just a prologue and also a very rough draft. I appreciate comments, subscriptions, and recommendations. (-: