Spring Break
'All I know is it was the best conversation that I've ever had'
The Story So Far
Shannon Barry
Issue date: 9/7/06 Section: Opinion
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As the train moved forward, Casey heaved a sigh of relief. She shifted forward and upward in her seat, locking two of her fingers in her belt loops and wiggling them up.
She smiled, paused momentarily and saw the man in the tweed jacket out of the corner of her eye.
While she was not shy, talking to strangers gave her a woozy feeling in her stomach. She spoke fast. She ran out of breath. She paced.
Funny considering she was a receptionist at a relatively busy dental office. She worked with strangers on a day-to-day basis, yet here she was, perplexed as to why an old gentlemen glancing at her somehow gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Tilting her head to the left, toward the window, she pretended not to notice.
What at this exact moment was he thinking about?
He plunked his coffee down on the table in front of him.
He set his newspaper down.
Casey looked outward.
As the sun hit the window, a glare formed along the edge, sun spots faint in Casey's eye.
She reached her hand in her bag and pulled out her small, MP3 player. She followed the cord of the headphones with her fingers and carefully placed the earplugs in her ears, pressing play simultaneously.
As the newspaper flips and coffee sips transformed into melodic voices, she realized it was within these moments that she seemed to become the most inspired.
The monotony yet the simplistic beauty of life: people in motion, each heading to the same place, but each with his or her own plan. His or her own destination.
She whipped out a pen her purple journal with blue polka dots. Her hand rested on the paper, moving with the motions of her words.
"It's not about the destination, but the journey getting there."
Emotions.
Love.
Guilt.
Anger.
Such profound revelations most often intertwined with other human beings.
She had begun to wonder if the rest of the world had become too numb to one another.
She smiled, paused momentarily and saw the man in the tweed jacket out of the corner of her eye.
While she was not shy, talking to strangers gave her a woozy feeling in her stomach. She spoke fast. She ran out of breath. She paced.
Funny considering she was a receptionist at a relatively busy dental office. She worked with strangers on a day-to-day basis, yet here she was, perplexed as to why an old gentlemen glancing at her somehow gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Tilting her head to the left, toward the window, she pretended not to notice.
What at this exact moment was he thinking about?
He plunked his coffee down on the table in front of him.
He set his newspaper down.
Casey looked outward.
As the sun hit the window, a glare formed along the edge, sun spots faint in Casey's eye.
She reached her hand in her bag and pulled out her small, MP3 player. She followed the cord of the headphones with her fingers and carefully placed the earplugs in her ears, pressing play simultaneously.
As the newspaper flips and coffee sips transformed into melodic voices, she realized it was within these moments that she seemed to become the most inspired.
The monotony yet the simplistic beauty of life: people in motion, each heading to the same place, but each with his or her own plan. His or her own destination.
She whipped out a pen her purple journal with blue polka dots. Her hand rested on the paper, moving with the motions of her words.
"It's not about the destination, but the journey getting there."
Emotions.
Love.
Guilt.
Anger.
Such profound revelations most often intertwined with other human beings.
She had begun to wonder if the rest of the world had become too numb to one another.
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