Spring Break
I can't remember the time or place/Or what you were wearing
The Story So Far
Shannon Barry
Issue date: 8/24/06 Section: Opinion
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Should I pick it up or let it ring? The train leaves at 7:30. Time to pack, time to get ready. Stop thinking. Start moving.
Casey rolls out of bed, reaches her arm to her phone placed on the top of her nightstand and picks it up.
"What's up?"
She scuffles from her futon and slams open her closet.
"What did you say again?"
She quickly pushes through the clothes in her closet, past a light blue tank top with white hearts, sashes hanging and a black skirt.
"It's not about the destination, but the journey getting there," the person on the other line mutters before hanging up.
What the … Casey pauses momentarily, looking at her phone, shrugs it off and throws the phone across the room onto her bed. She yanks a green cashmere sweater off a wire hanger and pulls a pair of black pants out of her drawer.
Dog hair. Go figure.
She throws her pants on the floor and pulls out a pair of khakis. She rushes into the bathroom and sets them down on the toilet.
As she enters the kitchen, she opens up the toaster door, leans back to the fridge and pulls out the strawberry cream cheese and a blueberry bagel. She slams the fridge door closed and rushes into the bathroom.
She throws on her clothes. She brushes her teeth.
As she ruffles her hair, the clock reads 7:10.
Casey slides into her puma shoes, opens her closet and grabs her shoulder bag, pre-packed.
She pushes her pillows and blankets off her bed, looking back and forth. Back and forth.
Keys. Keys.
She looks over to the coffee table.
Aha.
Casey grabs her keys and stuffs them in her pocket.
The clock reads 7:20.
Casey slings her bag on her shoulder and walks out the door of her studio, reaching back and switching off the light.
The toaster dings.
She rushes back inside and pulls the bagel out of the toaster.
Hot. Hot.
She laughs. Yeah, toasters are hot.
She eyes the cream cheese.
No time as Casey throws it back in the fridge.
She walks out the door, bagel in hand, and rushes out.
At the Amtrak station. The clock reads 7:38. "I'd like a ticket for the 7:40 to-," Casey begins.
"You're not going to make it," the receptionist says, angrily.
"Run," she says urgently.
Who invented stress? Always somewhere to go. Never enough time. That's right, it's times fault.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
Kelly
posted 8/30/06 @ 1:44 PM PST
That was hilarious. I guess it was just one of those mornings. I love your work. You will have a great career in journalism.
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