I walked down the street. The same one that reminded me of the release from my chains decades ago. The day was like any other. I decided to go to the restaurant that sat at the corner of County avenue. My cane stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk causing me to stumble. I was standing right in front of the cafe across from a restaurant. Hmm, tea sounds good right now. Turning towards the door I languidly walked up to the counter. They took my order and I walked to the table sitting out front.
A perfect view towards the restaurant. I watched as a young girl sat waiting in a booth. She watched as the people and cars passed by. Slowly she lost interest and began to watch those around her. First a family then a group of arguing teens. As she began to chew her lip, I felt a sense of recognition. Like a distant memory resurfacing after so long. Her mother walked in and the girl became still.
As she sat across from the young girl they jumped straight into conversation. The girl was nervous, clearly, but her mother didn't seem to care or notice. She prattled on as the girl's expression darkened. She looked lost. Her resolve had began to weaken, she herself had weakened. Then she simply exploded. She still struggled to have her voice heard. Her mother rambling on and on. The girl slowly began to drown, withdrawing further into herself.
I was like that once. Had been that way all the way up to my first year of college. With that thought the memory became crystal clear. It was the same restaurant I'd went to with my mom. The last I ever saw of her. I watched on as the argument came to an end. My mother stared at the younger me coldly. She got up and walked away.
I watched on as the girl sat. Her chest steadily rising with each breath. Her confoundment evident upon her face. I remember the sense of freedom. The same freedom I felt now as the tea cup crashed next to my prone body lying on the sidewalk. I heard the distant voices become frantic. Yet, still, I watched on. Watched as she gathered her things and walked away to her freedom. No longer just a viewer.
ESTÁ A LER
Not Just A Viewer
ContoA short story that I wrote as an English assignment. A girl just wanting to have control over her life. Relationships are hard to understand with their complexity and seeing as she is passive she is never heard. There's no direction of...
