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Saturday, August 25, 2012

Waiting


It was quiet with everyone involved in their activities; reading, computing, or quietly talking. The TV was barely audible or else not noticeable. I looked at my watch. How many more hours did I have at the dealership. Restlessness was not the mood to be waiting for anything, especially something that had to do with vehicles. At least I wasn't at the Department of Motor Vehicles. I read a book by Jodi Picoult. One of the character's job was to wait in line for other people; wait in ticket lines before you used your cell phone to purchase tickets, or wait in the DMV and probably wait for cars to be ready. She said she was a waiter, waiting in lines for people who didn't have the time and could afford not to have to wait in line. Lucky to be rich. When I read that scene, I wondered how much she got paid to be that kind of waiter. It was bad enough waiting for me, but to wait for someone else. 

Someone walked in the waiting room and everyone looked up from our activities.

This is from a writing prompt I came up with and posted on my Life Prompts blog. This is my response.  Happy Writing!

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Some of Marta's Lives



He stood in front of the Marta train doors, leaning forward in a pair of new looking, long jean shorts and a white t-shirt. His black hair was twisted and unruly, like each had a wish it was sending up to the heavens. He mumbled to himself once, adding curse words as if he was mad at the air.

The doors opened at the Civic Station.  A woman with a gold band used to keep her hair off her face, stepped on the train. The man with the twists grumbled and cursed as he walked away from the door, rather than tumble or rush onto the plat form. He remained standing as he mumbled and cursed.

 “Always taking my space,” the man with the twists said.

The woman didn’t notice the man with the twists. She stared at the water on the floor and the small puddle that gathered in a seat next to a gray haired man.

“A leak,” the gray haired man said. He looked up above him. She followed his gaze.

“Shouldn’t be,” the woman said as she looked at the floor again. When the train emerged from underground, the passengers could see that the rain momentarily stopped, though the sky was still gray and the air should still be cool when the passengers stepped outside.