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PART 1 : M A D I R A
It was a warm sunny day when Olive was fired from her full time job. She didn't arrive late one day too many, she didn't act nastily toward her coworkers, she didn't miss any of her projects. In actuality, she had arrived forty-five minutes early, she had gifted the office with treats, and she had completed her monthly project a week before the deadline. Olive's work was excellent, but in the eyes of the higher-ups, it wasn't enough.
The hard truth is that Olive had many ideas that didn't align with the preferences of the company. The hard truth is that the art industry is a competitive field, and you must conform to trends and popular ideals in order to find success. The hard truth is that the company had found a more preferable employee who Olive could not, and would not, compete with.
And the worst truth was that the day did not pity her. The sky was still the bright blue it had been that morning, and the sun was even brighter than Olive remembered. It seemed the world had become happier at the sight of Olive, who now stood jobless as she waited for the train.
The day did not pity the loss of her mother all those years ago, nor did it pity the neglect which her aunt resorted to when she found herself in custody of Olive shortly after. The day certainly didn't pity Olive now. She had lived through moments of sorrow and of horror, and she would live through many more until the end of her life, and throughout it all the world will still continue. That was the hard truth.
And as this truth stood with Olive, it sparked a sudden resentment that began to rage within her. It led her feet closer to the edge of the tracks, impatient for the train. A flood of confused anger and exhausted sadness pooled in her head. The chatter of people became too loud, the whisper of the trees became too loud, the grumble of the nearing train became too loud, the rustle of paper.
Everything hushed.
Olive looked to her right: a poster plastered on a pillar. It rustled as a breeze peeled at one of its corners.
. . .
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