HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

first year ➤the girl who got mail

HIS CHOSEN GIRL
chapter one-the girl who got mail
[Your P.O.V]
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"You need to move," I heard the voice before I see the person.

Slowly, reluctantly, I open my eyes before shutting them immediately. The harsh rays of the bright, burning sun nearly blinding me. The hot summer breeze blows across my face sending strands of my hair to flutter across my face. For a brief moment, I feel peaceful. All too quickly though, I hear the voice again.

"You gotta move," it says.

I push myself up off of the hard gravel road that has been my bed for the past week. I bring my hand up to my face to shield my eyes from the sunlight to be greeted with the solemn face of Mr. Vindell.

Mr. Vindel is this cheerful old man who owns a small convenience store. I've been residing outside said store for just shy of two weeks now, a personal record for me.

"Pardon me?" I ask tiredly finding it hard to concentrate on the man when all I want to do is lay back for a few more hours of sleep.

Finding a place to sleep in the city is a task close to impossible. Business and store owners understandably think that having a homeless girl camping out on their property reflects poorly on the company. This usually results in me being kicked out before the sun has even risen, and that's the best case scenario.

Mr. Vindell however, he was different. He likes me. Every night when he would lock up his shop, he would place a bottle of water and a banana beside me so that when I woke up, I'd be somewhat nourished. Bananas make my tongue feel scratchy, but I'd never complain.

"I'm starting to hear complaints from costumers. I don't want the store to get a bad reputation... Don't want this to become a thing, make it look like I'm running a charity here," he refuses to make eye contact with me. I can see how upset it is for him, evicting me. "I'm sorry kid," he genuinely seems it.

He hands me a few water bottles and a large box of crisps, probably thinking they'd last longer and they'd fatten me up more than bananas would.

"It's okay, Mr. Vindell. Really," My voice comes out raspy and almost silent from the lack of use I get out of it. "Thanks for everything."

With that, I gather my things, easily fitting the crisps and water into my backpack, I don't own a lot.

"Good luck out there kid," Mr. Vindell says. "You come back sometime."

I wave in response but I don't turn back to face him. I know well enough that I won't be coming back. I don't even remember the name of the store.

I cross the street, somehow already busy with traffic despite the fact that it can't even be half past six. I don't know where I'm going but it doesn't stop my tired body from stopping no matter badly I wish to just drop down and sleep for days.