Ten Minutes as Me

She ran, her feet hitting the pavement with a rhythmic smack that satisfied her yearn for movement. Her muscles felt like a plant starved of water, finally feeling the first droplets of rain. She ran without grace, in a primal way. Her run was hectic and rushed, not that of the joggers at the side of the road. She seemed to mimic more a person in trouble, running from danger or punishment.
Her fear that she ran from was distant, it was the fear of failure. By running she felt that instant gratification, no chance of getting it wrong, just one foot, next foot, left right. Past her she saw the monotonous landscape of identical houses. With each one she could track her pace, counting how many houses till the turning or how many she passed with 50 footsteps. Unfortunately, it wasn’t running without purpose. Her mother had asked her to go and buy eggs for Yorkshire puddings, and since the girl herself did like to eat eggs with breakfast, she decided to oblige.
With the shop in the distance her pace slowed to a swagger. Feeling it silly to walk into a shop huffing and puffing she dawdled along, catching the breath that had escaped her. Success flooded through her, even at the small achievement of being able to run to the local store; nothing was too small to be proud of. Inside the store was blaring with the shouting colours of packaging, each one boasting to be ‘Best in the market’ or ‘Even tastier!’. She scoffed and found the plainest carton of eggs, scooping it into one of her arms. She grabbed some chocolate off the best shelf in the shop, a bargaining chip thrown in to convince her to get eggs. She sighed and approached the till.
“How are you?” The brightly ginger woman said from behind the till, her voice distant and uninterested.
“Good” The girl replied. She was stuck for words after that, not knowing how to interact. The woman recited the price and she paid, silently pondering what she could say.
“Have a nice day” The woman said and the girl murmured “You too.” But it was too quiet and too late. She wandered back out in the street, disappointed she couldn’t run back home. The handful of change, eggs, chocolate and mobile was too much to try and keep track of when trying to run in her own way.
Sauntering back she took more time to look at things, namely people. Two boys on bikes passed her, both peering inquisitively at her. They were blatantly younger than her but she felt closer to them than the two teenagers in bright hoodies and dark hats across the road that probably were her age. She saw a woman moaning at her teenage daughter about presents and wondered if all teenagers looked so moody and then deliberately brightened her face. She watched her shadow for a moment, watching her hair writhe around her in the breeze. She liked her hair in this style, front sections tied at the back of her head but people called it ‘odd’ and ‘unusual’ so she tended to not do it.
Her house came up quicker than she expected. A car blared past with grime music playing loudly out the rolled down window. Home felt so good, although it never felt safe. She felt like often she couldn’t be herself in the presence of her mother; censoring her words, toning down her actions and tiptoeing around feelings. She quickly threw down the eggs and change, running upstairs to her personal haven. She stopped off on the way to place a chocolate bar on her sisters laptop, to surprise her for when she got home after her hard last day on her project. Smug at her thoughtfulness she returned to her cushy bedroom. Swathed with fur, fans and clutter – she loved it. Flopping on the bed she picked up her laptop and began typing, perhaps a little too hardly, as a creative idea zipped its way inside her head….