The Bucketlist

51 | REWINDING

Sometime after the stupid quartet realised they'd wasted enough food (and Siberians won't be happy).

When I reached home, I didn't stop by to say goodnight to Roms. Rachel was staying the night, so I decided I would let them be. I jumped on my bed and locked the door behind me. My other hand clutched at the tattered diary. If there was a way to figure out how I lived my life before the accident. I couldn't wait to get started.

I spread my legs on the bed, my back against the headrest, and flipped the cover. The first page had a solitary E. initial. The pages crinkled at the edges. All diaries had this mysterious edge to them, right from their simple, stupid-looking covers that probably rubbed off on them from their possessors. When Anne Frank wrote hers, she'd never known it would become a sensation, and when I wrote mine, I didn't think it would serve as the only way to trace back time. That's the thing about diaries, they may seem as useless as the confetti in office parties, but only the brooms( and the cleaners) know how much of it needs to be swept clean. That's how Cass put it in for me the last time we talked about diary writing. Was it a month ago? I had no clue.

I was a little terrified as I flipped the pages. The idea that Will had probably read it was not making it easy for me. What if I had changed? What if my feelings shifted? The truth was in my hands, and I had to read it. I gulped the lump forming in my throat and poured myself a glass of wine. (You're not allowed to tell Roms that I am hiding the wine under the bed. Thank you, please.)

August 18, 2017

I feel Fordshire is a little too much for me. It's one of the big cities where people get lost in the crowds. Sometimes I feel like I am complaining a lot. But what can I do if I don't fit in? The workplace is a load of bullshit. People there wear black all the damn time. At times, I find myself questioning whether someone died? (Maybe, a part of me T_T). We don't even look like editors (I am literally an intern). Bexley's doesn't seem like a publishing house! All they do is hire editors and morph them into gossiping, lipstick wearing, black clad bitches; like all those in the HR Team. I am afraid I am going to end up like one of them.

Thank God, Roms keeps me sane at Miss Mason's.

Peace out,

E :-)

God, I still sound the same. That was a relief. I was still intimidated by the Fordshire streets and other high class things here. Seattle was easy. Fordshire is 'it's complicated', even after five years of my life that I spent here.

~

August 29, 2017

I haven't called mom for weeks and don't feel like doing so for another. Something interesting happened today. While I was waiting for the elevator, I met a handsome man. He has these huge, grey eyes that shimmer (or maybe it's in my head) when he smiles, though I haven't seen him smile often. He wears this constant grimace over his face; as if someone has stolen his packet of oreos. I don't know if he likes oreos, though.

Umm, it's not the first time I have seen him but he surely doesn't work in our department. Perhaps, he is a senior. But I think he looks pretty when he smiles. Maybe, I should tell him that he looks pretty when he smiles, perhaps he would smile often! Especially when I have his number now ;-).

Grey eyed man! Oh my gosh, it had to be Will. I thought Will was handsome. I still do. Damn, the fucker knows everything I thought about him. It made me jealous about everything that he hadn't told me. He had that advantage and, I hope I wasn't head over heels for him.