Fifty Three

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A/N: Hello Beans! I'm sorry I hadn't had this chapter ready by last Sunday and after reading this, you'll probably understand why. It's not exceptionally long, but it is rather heavy 😊 You know me. But I'll definitely be coming back with a chapter on the coming Sunday because I have both Saturday and Sunday off from my work at the bakery ^^

I have to say though. This is the only job out of, like, the five others I've been on as a pre-school teacher, a staff member at a bookstore, three times as a media intern. I absolutely love working at this bakery despite it being the most tiring of all the other jobs I've had.

Enjoy this chapter.



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[Vanilla]



It was not until Leroy's mother had fallen asleep after her meal and medication that we left the room a minute before the end of visiting hours and boarded the train back home. My repeated attempts to lend a listening ear to the details of her medical condition and plans for post-coma treatment suggested by the emergency medical specialist fell flat by the end of our two hours spent in the hospital.

With every added buzz of the phone in my pocket, heavy grey clouds began to gather for thunderstorm thoughts. The urge to relieve anxiety and read everything on the spot while Leroy was speaking to his mother lasted for the rest of the evening even after I'd switched off my mobile device entirely. On our way to the station, my companion seemed to have noticed the slight (or drastic) change in my disposition and had asked, for his sake or mine, I couldn't tell, if he could stay the night.

"Of course," I'd said simply; watching the clouds gather. He seemed shortly surprised by my lack of resistance to the idea and had the audacity to remind me that he hadn't brought along extra clothes of his to which I'd resolved by mentioning that he could, once again, borrow one of my stretched shirts. The next two days were the only luxury of a break for those participating in all of W-interschool, meant for final preparations before the bonus round and then, subsequently, the round that determined the ultimate rank of the top fifteen participants.

Neither of us spoke any more than that and while I could most certainly tell Leroy had much to be processing—his mother's recovery and the cost of therapy or even the feasibility of it all, how long it would take—I had selfishly chosen to indulge in personal issues gnawing at my chest, shortening every breath in a night that was cold. By the time we'd settled into an empty carriage on the train and Leroy had fallen asleep resting his head against my shoulder, I was resisting the urge no more and going through every notification, every email, every word in the comment sections of every blog post.

The system had a safety function of automatically filtering out hate words and sending them directly into the approval box, which had, in the span of two to three hours, amounted to a grand total of three hundred and seventy-two. That did not include the ones that were equally hurtful but without the presence of indecent language.

Reading feedback was one thing. I've read countless essay feedback and advice from writing professionals or school counsellors that had me under their radar for being the youngest of students back in the private high school I'd attended but this was a whole other world of social convention that had me immensely bewildered and quite frankly—afraid.

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