Absolute Beginners H.S.

The old new place

She was sitting there, at her same old place. Well, it was not that old really it 'belonged to her' for only a few months but it seemed old to her. Time flies fast, people say, but to her, days dragged on like borring, seemingly never-ending classes. She thankfully didn't have a lot of those now in uni and especially not in UK. Uni is definitely not borring no, they keep you busy.

But she tends to push that thought away. She is supposed to be a translator one day, of course she didn't know if she even wants that, heck she doesn't know what being a translator even means. But she likes studying it. For now. She will probably soon change opinion though, she always does, it's like she has waves of fondness or affection. They come, and go, and return, and dissapear again it is inevitable. Which is also why she likes to sit there, on the bridge. To an unknown eye of the passing Londoners it might seem a little silly, at least to those who even see her.

There were a few who noticed the odd girl sitting on a bridge in the middle of busy street, and thought she is thinking of jumping into the dirty brown Thames. A few approached her, asked if she nedded help. She, of course, as always, dreading the contact with humans, epecially those she doesn't know, hurriedly responded she was just fine, not thinking of ending her life, nothing to worry about. Of course she was ashamed when they just barely curved their lips probably thinking 'what a weirdo' and proceeding with their lives.

She tends to push thoughts about them away as well. Not necessarily successfully but still tries.

It was dark already and despite all her mom's and sisters' warnings she was out alone in still busy city. She was strangely never afraid of cities at night and it was annoying to her how everybody incessantly warned her not to go out at night. It is just night for crying out loud.

And of course as usual her 'thinking time' as she called it, was interrupted by her phone vibrating. The pulsating light of her phone, indicating incoming call, was shining through the dark night. Sighing she looked at the screen and maybe even hoping it was none of her family members calling her, she couldn't help it, she didn't want them, it was strange feeling even to her but she couldn't help it.

Thankfully it was her room-mate calling her, probably needing something like dinner or clean dishes, god knows she's not going to wash them herself, it would be like christmas eve to Imogen if she came home and the dishes were washed.

She got off the bridge and started walking towards her home contemplating whether to answer the call or not. She chose not to, she wasn't in the mood for prattle. She obviously likes to be alone, the first thing people think when they see her is probably, 'you don't wanna deal with that, it is unapprochable area'. She usually liked it, not having to deal with stupid people because let's face it, people today are just plain stupid. Yet sometimes she couldn't deny to herself that, well, she wants to be with someone, who preferably wouldn't prattle, would just be berable. But she knew people like that don't exist at least not for her.

So she walked on, with her head held back gazing at stars, trying to find the only two constellations she knows and for at least a few moments pretend she is back in her hometown, being bitten by mosquitos, joking and stargazing with her friends.

She came home to an empty flat, a post-it note waiting for her on the floor. Her friend learned with time and after many missed meetings not to leave the notes on the fridge because Imogen will just not notice them, eventhough she opend the fridge more than a few times per day. But it was hopeless, so post-it notes on the floor in the hall it was.

The red lipstick imprint of Amber's lips on the note let Imogen know what was going on. She and her room-mate Amber had this tradition, well it was more Amber's tradition, to kiss the notes she leaves Imogen whenever she goes to a party and wants to let her know. But Imogen appreciated it, this way she at least knows where her trouble-magnet friend is and doesn't worry too much.

Imogen did what she does most nights Amber is out, first washed the dishes of course, then made herself some coffee, despite late hours she could drink heaps of it due to her Slavic roots and it was her own cup of heaven, coffee, indeed it was. She read some news, as a translator she had to be aware of every little thing happening in the world after all and she translated. Sometimes it was news for Czech newspapers or just some homework or job she got.