Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Writing Prompt: Control

The day started off well enough. She woke up. That's where the good times ended.
The toilet was broken. There was a huge mess in the bathroom. A plumber wasn't going to be available for several days.
There was nothing to eat. Stale cereal and expired yogurt. A glass of water for breakfast.
The comfort of a favorite shirt and pair of jeans would have been nice, but they were both packed neatly in the one bag the airline had lost on her recent trip.
A text sent sometime during the night canceled their planned walk in the park, and that was before it started raining.
The sympathetic ear of her best friend turned out not to be so. Everyone has an occasional bad day, but when yours falls on the same day of the one whose shoulder you cry on, it produces exasperated responses like, "You never shut up about this. If you're so sure that he's about to break up with you, then do us all a favor and just get it over with!"
Holding back angry tears, she went out to kick boxes in the garage. The automatic door opener didn't do its job when she hit the button. She sighed and wondered how she could have expected anything else.
She wrenched the door up and watched it roll back and settle into place. She eyed it suspiciously, knowing that today, with her luck, it was probably going to roll back down when she wasn't prepared and knock her unconscious. First she’d miss the delivery of her lost bag, and afterwards drown in the rain. Instead, all that happened was that because of the force she used to open the garage door, a box of Christmas decorations was knocked off the shelf it had been balanced precariously upon.
Shiny red and green glass balls rolled everywhere. A few broke. Thankfully, the heirloom decorations had been packed properly, but there was one long strand of lights in a huge snarl right in the middle of everything else.
She stood there, taking deep breaths. She would not cry. She would not give this terrible day the satisfaction. It was the one thing she could control.
She looked at the mess on the floor of the garage, wiped a hand across her eyes, and decided that maybe it wasn't the only thing. Could something a simple as tidying up make her day better? There was no harm in trying. She felt a sense of calm purpose in sweeping the floor. And if she wasn't going to let a tangled mess of Christmas lights bother her, then she shouldn't let any of the rest of the day’s little disappointments get to her either.
The box was back on the shelf and the rain seemed to be letting up when the delivery truck arrived with her bag. She went inside to unpack, then opened a bottle of wine and sat down to watch a movie. A text from her friend later that evening extended an olive branch of tentative apology: “has he called yet?” He hadn't, but maybe he would.
Maybe tomorrow.

Writing Prompt #777

No comments:

Post a Comment