this post is for the writing prompt at studio 30 + where i am currently navigating the waters and dabbling back into fiction, which i haven’t done for a while… and it feels kinda nice.

this week’s prompt was RED.

leaving her mother’s, she gained this intense combination of feeling both alive and petrified at the same moment. she pulled back the sliding glass door, stepped on the snow that covered the back deck, and quietly closed the door behind her.

regardless of the number of times she has snuck out of her mother’s house, the same thrill of leaving along with the fear of getting caught resonated in deeply within her body, and it was as though she had woken up from an exquisite night’s sleep.

the bitter cold may have had something to do with her awakening as well.

pulling her winter coat around her tiny frame, she adjusted her satchel and began her walk. only a half mile until she reached her destination, but it was freezing out. even still, she couldn’t risk taking her own car. the noise of simply starting it would wake her mother.

it was only half after 3 in the afternoon and already her mother had been passed out for almost an hour. as per usual, she checked that her mom was still breathing and wasn’t holding a lit cigarette before she snuck out the sliding glass door.

while she walked, she thought of the cigarettes… how many were lit… how many had burnt holes in the carpet, the couch, clothing. she thought of the empty bottles of smirnoff and those fucking red labels that just screamed “ATTENTION ATTENTION, I AM A CHEAP THRILL.”

her speed quickened as she felt herself grow more and more angry. resentful. disgusted.

beyond the 4-way stop, she saw the gas station and the brake lights on the truck.

her destination. for the next 2 hours she would be free.

she smiled.

the passenger side door was unlocked. she tossed her satchel in the back seat, hopped in the front, and put on her seat belt.

the driver, a 42 year old man, nodded his head at her and gave her a soft smile. there was shame in his eyes. embarrassment.

looking at him, her heart softened and she reached into the back seat to retrieve her satchel.

she pulled out the workbook, red letters on the cover, spelling out “3rd grade mathematics.”

with the workbook in her lap, she reached over and gently placed her hand on top of his.

“let’s get to work,” she said assuredly.

he put the truck in drive and turned left out of the gas station, towards the public library.