author’s note: so i wanted to write something that could possibly get me writing again? before this, i had been suffering from some writer's block and also some health problems so i’ve been kind of off and this, though it’s not a ship, is just a little something that will hopefully get me writing again. thank you to everyone for being so understanding with my grand hiatus’. with love! - f
I shrugged. No matter the variation of the question, I always had the same boring answer.
“Nothing special.” I didn’t bother to elaborate, I knew the next thing that came from her would be something along the lines of-
I didn’t mind the fact that she pushed. Sometimes, most of the time, I couldn’t help but feel a little angry. People prying into something that they didn’t need to know, something that I clearly didn’t want to talk about. But the way she looked at me, I almost actually wanted to tell her. But want or not, it was pleasantries to answer anyway.
“Grew up the suburbs. Only child. Two mostly happy parents with steady jobs. Had a dog, had a pool. Had a few friends here and there. Same schools, same town, same people. Like I said, nothing special.” I shrugged. I looked back over to her, my eyes had drifted while I spoke, and she had some kind of spark in her own eyes, genuine smile on her face.
“I think that’s extraordinary.”
Her voice had a hum to it, a lilt if you will. Never the less, the statement made me pinch my brows in confusion.
“I’m sorry, did you hear what I said? My story is the blandest, most ordinary story on the planet.” She shook her head, even laughed at my slightly flustered state.
“The fact that it’s ordinary is what makes it so special. Everyone seems to have some kind of grand point in their life. Divorce, moving, something that makes them bitter or conceded or just the way they are. You rarely have an ordinary story anymore. You don’t need a grand point. You’re you, amazingly so, just on your own.”
I didn’t get it. I was confused. And I was flustered. To the point where I was looking down at the backs of my hands because I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t even know her and she was being so nice.
The breaks squeaked and she shifted slightly, listening to the announcer come over the intercom. The train slid to a halt two stations down from where I got off. This was her stop. I knew this. She offered me another smile before collecting her things. She got up and paused for a moment.
“We’ve talked three times, sat together five. I think now it’s appropriate that I ask your name.” She looked at me expectingly, but not in a harsh, pressured kind of way. I told her and her smile grew a bit. She told me her own and I said it again after her. It made her laugh. I probably still looked like a confused kid. She said she’d see me tomorrow. I tried to get out ‘see you’ but before I could she was gone again, lost in the morning rush.