SYLVANA JOYCE

Prompt: What Happened Here? (10 minute writing exercise)

A woman in the corporate world decides to stop for some apples at the fruit stand on the way home from work. She missed the time she had during quarantine to bake to her heart's content. Maybe apple pie will cure my back-to-work blues, she thinks to herself. Waiting for the train, her feet are pulsating. They've gone soft, no longer used to the harshness of everyday high heels of yore. Well, they'll get used to it, eventually, she sighed. 

A red apple poking out of her bag catches her eye. I'll have one on the go. Then the color reminds her - I brought my flats! Go, Janine! She thanks herself. Reaching into the bag, her hand shuffles around the newly purchased fruits in search of her shoes, reminding herself to give the apples a good wash. It's a far cry from cloroxing my groceries the way I did at the beginning of the pandemic, she chuckled to herself. Now, I'm okay if my shoes and my food share a bag...ugh. I can only feel one shoe in here. Did I really only pack one? 

She digs her hand deeper into the bag as she stares off to the empty platform across from her, apples rolling around. Getting frustrated, she yanks the bag open on her lap to try and spot the second shoe - and a bunch of apples fall out onto the pee stained floor in front of her. Well, shit. Oh, and second shoe was right under the first one. How did I miss that? Taking her red flats out of the bag, she peers down at the apples that fell. Now, I don't have enough apples to make that pie. Fuck. She fights back tears. Jesus, am I really going to cry in this train station? Man up, Janine. It's the fucking weekend. Do I have wine at home? I have wine. It's okay. 

The roar of the approaching train snaps her out of her pep talk. Her eyes scan for a trash can. Why is it so far away? Do I have time to throw these apples out? Reaching down to pick the three that have fallen, two more sneak past her out of the bag on her lap and onto the floor to join the others. Really, Janine! As the doors to the train open, She's rushing to pick up the apples and juggle them and her bag in her grasp. Eyeing the open train door and the trash bin, she knows she's not going to make it. Putting the fallen apples on the wooden bench, she hurtles toward the closing doors. Thank god. As she congratulates herself, Janine looks out the window of the closed train doors to see her impromptu art display.

My. Fucking. Flats.

Don't you cry. Don't you dare fucking ---