On My Way

This isn't really a story, more of a short piece of writing about the joys of travelling alone. Hope you like it! Xx


1. On My Way

Waiting. Waiting at the bus stop, and apparently the bus drivers don't care if I get home before dark. But I don't care, they can take as long as they want. I take a deep breath, the cool air rushing into my lungs and I close my eyes. Beneath my eyelids red and white lights dance and skip, twirling and spinning, rushing and running. The sun is sinking slowly below the horizon in the distance, and the rusty orange light is flooding over the trees and houses. I love my journey home, I always have. I can clear my head and watch everyday life pass by me. People, each with their own everyday lives, some with their heads down - on a mission. Some taking their time. Some could be on their way to the biggest moment of their lives, but no one knows it. The bus.

I take a seat on the bus and look around. 1, 2, 3 people on the top deck with me. It's a quiet day. My fingers automatically crawl to my bag and drag the old zip open. Opening my book as I pull it out of my scruffy backpack. Words on a page, words on a page. It's strange how letters in the right order can captivate you, motivate you and inspire you. And the particular order of letters in this book is my favourite. I carefully turn the pages of my little world, these familiar pages and smudges. The spine is distorted and bent. Clearly I have visited this world too much, I don't want to wreck it... I look up.

Home. My head clogs up again and my miniature paradise fades into the distance.

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