A Regular Short Journey

Hey guys,

So I’ve had limited time to polish the post for NaBloPoMo day 4. I hope you still find it engaging. I attempted to focus on the feelings and senses one might have on a short journey.



I have to walk across town in order to meet Sam. No matter how early I start to get ready, I somehow wind up running late. So I end up leaving in a fluster, anxious he’ll be left waiting for me. Not that this would be more than ten minutes. But the idea of it concerned me, almost as if I might miss something by arriving after him.

Too impatient to wait for the lift, I fly down the stairs two steps at a time. Rushing out of the door the cold wind hits my face. It’s that time of year after the clocks have gone back, so it’s much darker then it ought to be this early in the evening. The darkness adding a sting to the cold bite of the wind. When feeling late, the zebra crossing always seems a little too far. Dodging noisy traffic on the road I jump into the side entrance of the railway station.

Marching on to the platform, I’m always a little apprehensive I’ll be confronted by a ticket inspector, demanding a valid ticket. Not that it’s happened in the last six months of making this journey. But I just can’t seem to shake it off. Cue Taylor Swift. In fact, I should really bring my headphones along. Music would certainly distract me from the suspicious eye contact of the commuters, which only acts to reinforce the feeling of being out of place. Hurrying down the stairs to the exit, the town feels altogether different on the other side. Commuters mingled with the town’s students, gives rise to an atmosphere heavy with the sounds of thriving life.

I push on past the Starbucks on the corner. The single digit temperatures spur me on, resisting the tempting aroma of coffee infused in the air. My taste buds are further ignited travelling past the eateries lined up on either side of the road. I’d have to get to Sam before satiating my appetite.

Up ahead the derelict mall clouded my sight. As dead as the night was alive, it merely acted as a passageway to the high street beyond. Glancing at the shop windows I thought desperately of a reason to come back here over the weekend. I’d need to find a new Christmas jumper soon enough. But now, I had to take the steady climb up into market square. It was a silent expanse tonight. Soon though, the Christmas Market would take over with its merry cheer. I smiled in the knowledge that Sam and I would find ourselves in the thick of it, arm in arm, sipping on mulled wine. Excited by this image I cross the square and veer off to the right where Sam’s building stood tall.

Arriving outside the building just as a bunch of students tumble out, I’m able to sneak into the foyer. Relieved to have made it, I call for the lift. But my journey is over. The doors part to reveal a smiling Sam, ready to take on the night.

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