As I walked to the train station, the icy breath of the wind whipped through my clothes, sending a shiver down my spine. I reach the station, getting ready my ticket. Thank God that the train wasn't postponed today, or I would've been late.
The ride is slow and boring, murmurs spreading across the train as people chatted amongst themselves. I draw out my phone, and decide to inspect it. It's not a crappy phone, for I have saved up two years worth of money to get this. The case is a plain matt black, and I decide to decorate it.
From my pecil case, I take out five colours of Sharpie paint pens: white, grey, dark grey, blue and pink. Praying that the ride wouldn't be so bumpy, I start to plan out a cat head motif on the back with a pencil, lightly sketching the shape. When I finished with that, I outline it with light grey and start to add dimensions and texture to the cat.
In the end, it turned out to be pretty good. I was well proud of it, mainly because I did it on a 20 minute train ride. I stepped out of the train, on to the cement platform, and made my way down the street to the house.
During this period of time, I think back to the times where the five sisters would run around, and their mother would behave like an anxious mother hen with her baby chicks. Now though, although they are only 11, they are definitely more mature and calmed than last time. The wouldn't be any random scribbles on their assigned work or torn paper, which I am proud of them for.
Once I reach their doorstep, I move on to ring the bell. But there is no need to. The door swings open, revealing one of the five sisters, whom of which I recognise as to be Steffi.
"Hey," I smile, removing my shoes. "Have you finished your homework?" I inquire.
"Yes." She answers back, closing and latching the door. She follows me to their study, where I would tutor them. I pop my head in the kitchen to say a quick hello to their mum, before walking up the stairs.
"How have you all been?" I question, taking a seat on the plush, black chair. "Fine." They answer, sitting as well. They draw out their assignments and place it on the table for me to inspect. They've all done it, much to my satisfaction.
The course goes on for an hour and a half, stopping at nine. The sisters and their mum wave me off, then I walk to a nearby cafe to have a small meal, before headint to the other child's house.
I stop my last tutoring session at 9pm sharp, finally ready to go home. I get in a taxi and get driven back home, enjoying the cool air. I hand the driver a note(as in dollar note thing), before stepping out. I open my umbrella, trying to avoid getting splashed by the screeching wheels of the vehicles that drove past.
When I step in the warm house, Sophie came out with a warm smile. "Hey, Ro." She said, handing me a towel. "How's work?"
"Oh, you know, same as always." Is my muffled response, as I burry my face into the towel. She laughed, ruffled my hair, then went back to her room.
I enter my room and have a hot shower, before coming out in a dressing gown. I put on a plain yellow shirt on, along with a pair of black pants. Then I wrap myself back in my dressing gown, then sprawled on my bed and mulled over the past few years of my life.
I once had been a normal kid, with a normal family- loving parents and a caring brother. That only lasted for what, seven, eight years? Before... Deaths occured. I remember the feeling when I was running to the park, away from Uzi and Zoanna's house, more so running from my problems. Then Sophie found me, in clothes that were tattered because of the tree branches, and that warm, heart-melting smile that made me follow her home. The more recent years weren't that bad, just that our food was less, so now I was used to eating only half of a regular sized meal, or maybe even less than that.
Thinking about this got me going- some parents say, "Don't waste your food, some children don't even have access to that." I get that now. But that reminds me of another phrase, "Don't be sad, there are other people out there who are in a much worse situation you're in." So frankly speaking, if you can't be sad because other people have it worse, you can't be happy, because other people have it better. That doesn't make sense now, does it?
These thoughts help me stray away from the sad ones, which, I cannot stop from floating back into my head, like an arcade, for example. Stroll in casually, then you either dominate or lose, then you leave.
I shut my eyes, and try to fall asleep, the slow pitter-pattering of rain falling on the window sill making it easier.

(=^・ω・^=)