4.20.15
Notice: I don't want to be your guardian or anything, but PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THE CURRENT VIRUS AROUND! (*cough cough* Covid19) BE SAFE, CLEAN, AND AWARE!
It's the very start of March, and I don't know about you, but suffocation and being cooped up in a room isn't something I'm the most fond of. By the way, my family totally isn't stocking up like crazy right now, though I've gotta say, there's an abnormally great quantity of eggs in my refrigerator....
Day 1 of Self-Quarantine. I look out a balcony, breathing in the fresh wisps of wind that my room couldn't offer. Staring into the distance, I watch with longing for adventure and the outdoors, probably just like how Juliet looked at Romeo creepily below her. Forget it. After enough gazes of yearning in the balcony, I've confirmed it. My decision. And that's final.
"I'm going to get my umbrella back from my cousin's place!" I called out to Grams, as I walked out the door. It was a half-truth, but later on, I received a call that the umbrella was already dropped off at my place. I can't help but notice several glances my way from the few people that were walking down the streets, as I made my way to the town's main blocks. Did I mention that I was wearing many layers of black with a sketchy hat and mask on?
Though I'm not sure if the mask will help much, I made my way to a local bakery. Yes, I broke free my first day of self-quarantine for cake, and for the record, I also intended to buy hand sanitizer, but the shop was closed. I smile to myself. This reminds me of when I wandered out and about in a campsite, worrying the hell out of my poor mom. Check. Or when I explored too far on tour, and accidentally got myself ousted from the area. Check. Also when I was kicked out of my house at night, so I was left to explore the cold, desolate streets on my own. Check.
I utterly possess no sense of direction or common sense in myself. I'm afraid the only compass I'll ever have is a moral compass. I enjoyed the races the wind was running through my hair, and the smell of freedom. Temporary. Despite being outside, it wasn't the same, especially because it was difficult to smell the fragrance of freedom with a mask on.
I entered the warm bakery only to receive not glances, but outright stares at my attire. Rude much? I pretended to ignore their existences, not that it lasted long when I started to eavesdrop on their loud whispers of a conversation. The elderly women spoke in their native language, which oh so perfectly, happened to be the one my family spoke. I smirked.
"Look at her, who does she think she is?"
"I know, so dramatic. There's no need for that large mask." Amused, I scrutinized the rows of cake, letting my indecision prolong my choice for once.
"Crazy, crazy, crazy. How frightened people can be. There must be something going on with her brain."
"I know! She even looks like a psychotic robber." One of the women left immediately after, but just before she walked out that door, I caught her stare. Glaring, I tilted my head, half-smiling bittersweetly. Excuse my manners, I guessed I should respect my elders more.
The other gossip woman's eyes darted between trays of bread. And then there was one. I cleared my throat, and asked the cashier for the price of a cake pop. That is, in a projected voice with the language the two oldies used earlier. After my purchase, not caring to see if the elderly customer's reacted, I stepped out into the open.
I sighed softly. I'm not one to get back at people, I promise. Revenge really doesn't suit me. My lips quirked to the side. I just look out for myself often, and I've completely had enough of always listening to the wrong people. I shook my head. I came here for a breather, not to have my mind wrapped around these thoughts. Agh, believe me, being sensitive can be troubling sometimes. Before I know it, I've arrived in my living room.
"Back already? Your Gramps's home from grocery-shopping on the main streets. On his way there, he told me it was practically abandoned," Grams told me.
"Oh," was all I had to say to her. Relieved that there was no mention of Gramps spotting me there, I turned away first. Sauntering to the balcony again, I muttered under my breath, "I know. I've been out there."
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The Taste of Inspiration
Short StoryStories come to life through the beautiful words imprinted on crisp pages, or in my case, on Wattpad! (Many of them revolve around a protagonist, and every person lives in their very own unique one.) Take my hand and I'll lead you into my story in a...
