Post by Floyd Looney on Jun 29, 2010 13:55:24 GMT -5
Jan didn't want to wake up. Things were so much nicer in her dreams that she decided to live in them. She was definitely awake now though. She sighed and opened her eyes a slit.
The sun was just coming up and the one little window let it fill the room with light. If she reached to the sides with both hands she could reach the walls and the just above her head and below her feet were the other walls. To her, it was more of a closet than a place to live.
There was a light fixture hanging by a wire from the rotting, cracking ceiling but it had no bulb in it. No worry, it didn't have any electricity in it either.
Jan sat up in the bed and rubbed her face with her hands before yawning. Bed, right. One thin foam sheet ontop of a wooden slat which had drawers all around for storing her things. Not that she had any things to store.
She picked her backpack up from the stained bare wooden floor in the tiny space between the bed and the wall and opened up one of the pouches. She pulled out a shirt and gave it a sniff, she supposed this was a "clean" one. Like anyone would care about the mustard stain.
She found her denim shorts on the floor and put them on before throwing on her sandals. She washed her face and arms from the wash bowl she had filled before going to sleep. Tied her hair into a messy ponytail and then she put on the backpack.
Jan opened the door and checked the corridor. No one else was there and she could still hear snoring. This had once been a lovely 3-bedroom apartment and now it was a 10-bedroom hostel. She never left anything in her room, the lock was too easily broken.
She always avoided the bathrooms here for something more public. Soon she was out the door and into the outdoor square of the apartment complex. It was like a small city and there were people already setting up cooking fires and selling their homemade goods.
After leaving the complex she walked down the broken sidewalk to the public noodle shop. She couldn't afford a cup of noodles though. She ordered a coffee and laid a dirty crinkled $10 bill on the counter after getting a styrophoam cup of slightly watered down brew. It would be worse later in the morning, of course, as they reused the grounds with just a spoonful of new grounds.
Her stomach tightened. She was hungry. It couldn't be helped, she told herself, as she left the fast crowding shop. Keep walking. That was the thing, keep walking, as if you had a place to go. As if you had a purpose.
She sat on the ground near a bus stop as if she were simply waiting for a bus. There were other people here but she stayed at the fringe of the group. A man was holding a package of dry noodles and ngotiating a price with another, shorter man.
The short man held up a white and blue shirt. Probably the ugliest shirt ever designed, Jan thought, some type of "bowling" shirt. It was clean though and in mint condition. The tall man was reticent but he seemed very interested in the shirt.
Jan kept glancing at the noodles. Her stomach ached.
No, I have nothing to trade. Her stomach did not agree that she had nothing to trade. I'm not that kind of girl. Not for noodles at any rate.
Jan hid her face in her palms. Soon enough the men had concluded their transaction and both wandered off hiding their prizes in their gym bags. Jan didn't move when the bus showed up and the driver didn't care to wait. After the bus left she stood up and started walking again. Keep walking she told herself.
Just keep walking.
The sun was just coming up and the one little window let it fill the room with light. If she reached to the sides with both hands she could reach the walls and the just above her head and below her feet were the other walls. To her, it was more of a closet than a place to live.
There was a light fixture hanging by a wire from the rotting, cracking ceiling but it had no bulb in it. No worry, it didn't have any electricity in it either.
Jan sat up in the bed and rubbed her face with her hands before yawning. Bed, right. One thin foam sheet ontop of a wooden slat which had drawers all around for storing her things. Not that she had any things to store.
She picked her backpack up from the stained bare wooden floor in the tiny space between the bed and the wall and opened up one of the pouches. She pulled out a shirt and gave it a sniff, she supposed this was a "clean" one. Like anyone would care about the mustard stain.
She found her denim shorts on the floor and put them on before throwing on her sandals. She washed her face and arms from the wash bowl she had filled before going to sleep. Tied her hair into a messy ponytail and then she put on the backpack.
Jan opened the door and checked the corridor. No one else was there and she could still hear snoring. This had once been a lovely 3-bedroom apartment and now it was a 10-bedroom hostel. She never left anything in her room, the lock was too easily broken.
She always avoided the bathrooms here for something more public. Soon she was out the door and into the outdoor square of the apartment complex. It was like a small city and there were people already setting up cooking fires and selling their homemade goods.
After leaving the complex she walked down the broken sidewalk to the public noodle shop. She couldn't afford a cup of noodles though. She ordered a coffee and laid a dirty crinkled $10 bill on the counter after getting a styrophoam cup of slightly watered down brew. It would be worse later in the morning, of course, as they reused the grounds with just a spoonful of new grounds.
Her stomach tightened. She was hungry. It couldn't be helped, she told herself, as she left the fast crowding shop. Keep walking. That was the thing, keep walking, as if you had a place to go. As if you had a purpose.
She sat on the ground near a bus stop as if she were simply waiting for a bus. There were other people here but she stayed at the fringe of the group. A man was holding a package of dry noodles and ngotiating a price with another, shorter man.
The short man held up a white and blue shirt. Probably the ugliest shirt ever designed, Jan thought, some type of "bowling" shirt. It was clean though and in mint condition. The tall man was reticent but he seemed very interested in the shirt.
Jan kept glancing at the noodles. Her stomach ached.
No, I have nothing to trade. Her stomach did not agree that she had nothing to trade. I'm not that kind of girl. Not for noodles at any rate.
Jan hid her face in her palms. Soon enough the men had concluded their transaction and both wandered off hiding their prizes in their gym bags. Jan didn't move when the bus showed up and the driver didn't care to wait. After the bus left she stood up and started walking again. Keep walking she told herself.
Just keep walking.
