Day 4 (07:06)

The bed’s creak as they sat down carried through the heavy silence, slowing until it crashed. Repeated. And then, I just stand there, staring at nothing and everything all at once while I wait for that moment when I can take my bag and hurry off to the part of the day I like, tea burning their lips as they rocked to and forth on the tips of their toes.

Fresh air, low light, the familiar rhythm of my steps carrying me along the street to the bus. I like the bus. It has a routine – just like me. It’s consistent. The bus driver gave a small smile at the sight of the lanky person waiting there like every morning, remaining still until the very last moment when they had to get on. They stood like they sat: hunched over, neck stretched out a bit like a tortoise poking out of its shell. Sometimes, he wondered if their back ever hurt from that, but most days he dismissed those worries. They were still young – there’s nothing that can’t be fixed when you’re young.

For a moment, they stood there like frozen, staring the man sitting right behind the driver into the eyes as if searching for his soul, before I simply turned away, stiffly sitting down in the only place that is a bearable alternative. Staring again. Whenever he dared to, he shot them a glance, somehow fascinated by them. Most kids my age listen to music, but I don’t. Not to be different but because I like to watch the people. In a flood of different passengers, the group at this time was almost consistent, like a never-changing cast in some TV show that had the same three episodes up for reruns every single day. Somehow, it was nice, he had to admit it.

There was something comforting in knowing that the staring kid would start getting up one stop before they actually had to get off, simply so they could stand in the door next to him, quietly uttering thanks as they’d step off and immediately turn right.

Today’s one of the days when I like knowing that it’ll be the same tomorrow. Because tomorrow will feel like a new try at today. That’s good. Safe. Because today will be full of mistakes; the tension in my chest tells me it will be. Tomorrow is another try. Maybe it will be easier. All I have to do is get through today. So I walk up the stairs, keeping my head down and my eyes on the shoes shuffling to and forth in front of mine, stepping onto the creaking floorboards without company.

The bell rings. “Rivers?” My seat could be empty, I stare at the one that is just so right in front of mine, the sight making my stomach tense though I couldn’t explain why. Doesn’t matter anyway. The teacher sighed, making a tiny mark in her notes before continuing down her list. Tomorrow. I cling to the word like a promise, my eyes trailing up the path between the tables, clinging to the wall before resting by the door.

There are tired eyes not unlike my own, pretty eyes, shaded eyes, eyes rimmed with eyeliner, eyes that go through me like through thin smoke. Something I know. Smiling eyes, crying eyes, eyes foggy with drugs, eyes that stare back. Not what I’m looking for.

Mistakes. All mistakes. Tomorrow. Promise.