Wicca’s Originals @ Kinky // February 28th – March 23rd
Finding Your Inner Self – Part 1
It’s Thursday, so it must be egg salad.
Yes, Erin was that predictable. And that boring. She led a small life in a big city. Just an insignificant speck among a million souls. That mousy girl that people forget was there. And not foolish enough to believe she would aspire to be anything more.
Just like every other day, Erin was alone in the employee breakroom of the museum where she worked. It was a beautiful summer day and everyone else had gone out for lunch. Everyone except plain, old Erin. No one thinks of asking her to go along.
So Erin grabbed her brown paper bag lunch from the fridge, poured a cup of stale coffee and took her usual seat at a table in the corner. For a moment she stared at the brown bag on the table and wished it contained something different, but knew it is the same thing, as it has been every Thursday since Erin was 5 years old.
Monday was chicken, left over from Sunday supper. Tuesday was peanut butter. Wednesday was bologna with butter on white bread. Thursday was egg salad. Friday was tuna (like a good Catholic). Sandwiches were always cut in four perfect little squares. Ten neatly cut carrot sticks; not eight, nor eleven, but ten. One small apple. One thin, white napkin. Like mother, like daughter.
The only child of a librarian and a housewife, Erin’s child was as exciting as white bread. Even her dreams were boring; limited to the safe and bland books her father brought home from the library each week. Yes, safe and bland books for a safe and bland girl.
Now in her early 30’s and all alone since her parents were both gone, Erin lived in a bland little apartment, not even a cat or canary for company. With a sigh, Erin reached for her lunch and shook the contents out onto the table. Out tumbled the egg salad sandwich, carrots, apple, napkin and … a folded piece of paper.
For a moment, Erin was afraid to even touch it, half expecting it to bite her like a snake. Finally, with a rare sense of curiosity, Erin reached for the paper. A gasp escaped her quivering lips as she read the words printed on the sheet. ‘Did you like the book?’
Her face suddenly flushed and Erin’s eyes darted around the room. How did someone find out about … the book? Two months ago, Erin followed her normal Saturday morning routine; bank, library, grocery store and home. Though, when she arrived home, Erin found an extra book in her bag. One she did not check out and wasn’t even a library book. As she began to read it, it was most definitely not a book from the library.
The words Erin read made her face burn, her skin tingle and caused aches in areas of her body she did not know could ache. Erin knew she should put the book down, but no matter how much she squirmed and wiggled on that lumpy old chair of hers, she could not stop reading. When she finally finished, Erin was so embarrassed, she ran to the kitchen and threw the book in the trash. She started to back away, and then fished it from the trash, only to throw it into a junk drawer. She paced nervously around the tiny kitchen for another minute before Erin snatched the book from the drawer and hurried into the living room.
Under the sagging sofa, behind an old, scarred desk, a high shelf in the coat closet – nowhere seems like a good hiding place. Finally, with the book tucked away in a cardboard box, under the shoes she wore only once for her high school graduation, Erin plopped down on the edge of her bed, exhausted.
It was weeks before Erin could finally put that book out of her mind and now this note not only reminded her, but was evidence that someone else knew her embarrassing secret. No longer able to eat, Erin threw everything into the trash. Everything, except the note.
She should tear the note to pieces. Set it on fire. Flush it down the toilet. No, it went into the pocket of her sensible skirt that matched her sensible buttoned up blouse that matched her flat, sensible shoes.
Erin tried to concentrate on her work, but all she could think about was that note in her pocket. Who knew about that book? Who slipped the note into her lunch bag? Was it someone who worked there? Maybe a museum patron? Maybe some crazed lunatic! For the rest of the afternoon, Erin kept looking over her shoulder to see if someone was watching her.
The ride home on the bus was sheer torture and Erin practically ran the four blocks from the bus stop to her apartment. For the rest of the night, Erin sat on the sofa with her arms wrapped around legs and methodically chewed her fingernails down to stubs.
What was she going to do?
To be continued …
Sizes: Maitreya, Legacy[F], Ebody Reborn, Hourglass
HUD: 10 Colors & 10 Metals