My Heart's Resident

2

It probably wasn't a good idea to throw my door open the way I did, but at the moment I didn't have a care in the world. I practically jumped at my desk where my computer lie, throwing my journal down, getting to work.

The outline was fairly simple. I compiled my notes into an air-tight plot and developed characters I felt my readers would want to follow the story of. A young, autistic doctor, and a normal girl that lived nearby the hospital he worked at. Sounds familiar, right? The difference is this: I sincerely doubt that Dr. Murphy and I will fall in "love." How could we? I'm meeting him for my book and other casual friend things. I don't even believe in love. But! My character is definitely a love-stricken victim.

I decided to follow the basis I had for the original thought-- she gets dumped by her long time boyfriend and feels depressed, so she takes a walk. She didn't pay attention to the crosswalk and gets paralyzed in the road, receiving critical damage and the only person who can save her is her good friend, the autistic doctor. No one trusts him, but his intellect is impeccable and his knife just as swift. He knew what he was doing; they couldn't deny that.

She is saved, and looked after by the doctor and a few side characters until they steadily fall for each other. And then something tragic happens. Or not.. I haven't thought that far yet. I write on a whim.

Satisfied with my outline, I start working. "Draw.. The readers'.... Attention," I mutter, fingers flying over the keyboard as my imagination leaks words onto the page. Tragedy, relief, worry, happiness, sarcasm, comedy, tragedy, sadness, depression, love, relief, and happiness in that order spill out of my fingers for hours on end as I take a break to sleep, eat, or use the restroom. I hadn't taken a shower in awhile. Soon, most of my book was finished, but I was stuck on the resolution leading into the ending.

"Urg!! Why does inspiration leave me hanged in the gallows?!" I growled, shutting down my computer. I took a quick shower and threw on clothes suitable for the public eye. Not that I own clothes that aren't.. You know what I mean!

I walked along the street that went nowhere. I didn't have a place in mind, but I needed inspiration, so my feet seemed to lead me to dating scenes. Oh my God why am I, a lonely womon, at a dating spot? This was a bad idea, feet! But I was already here.

You could practically smell the desperation and cheesiness of New York couples holding hands across the small tables of a food court. I hope I never end up in this kind of relationship.

I sit against the wall of the chocolate store across from the dating court, risking looking homeless as I pull out my worn journal and favorite pen. Studying the couples may be a bit strange, but not as strange as how the couples looked at each other. I shivered a little. Disgusting.

A familiar floof of brown hair wafted by, and I hurriedly scrambled to my feet. "Shaun," I called out, "What are you doing here?" and I caught up with him. "I.. Missed my stop on the bus. I have to walk," he said, moving at a slightly quicker pace than before after he looked at his watch. "Can I walk with you? I like the hospital," I said, stopping when I heard his answer. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

I watched him get farther away from me, about to just sit back down at the chocolate shop, but my feet moved on their own, following him anyway. I felt like I would be looking at his back often. It wasn't a good feeling. We walked to the hospital, where he quickly clocked in and put on a robe, disappearing from sight. I sighed, plopping down in a waiting room chair again, my hand squished against my face as I pouted.

"Trouble in paradise?" I heard, and turned to the person on my right, eyebrows raised. "Oh, no. We only met once before this. I don't really know him." Well, I do know him. He didn't really leave out any details when we met... Except for his brother which I have yet to meet.

The guy nodded, smiling as he minded his own business while reading an old waiting room magazine.

I started to feel tired, my lack of sleep for the past week catching up to me. I could feel my stomach ache with hunger. I stood up and decided to go home for the time being. I had hoped to talk to Shaun a bit more, but duty calls, I guess.

On the way home, my feet were dragging. I barely made it through crosswalks in time, and the harsh sun glaring off of windshields combined with New York smog and horns gave me a pounding migraine. Also, it was hot outside. My arms are sticking to my sides and a shower is well needed once again.

I clambered up my rusty staircase and went to unlock my door, only to realize:

My key was still inside.

Good thinking, Y/n. Way to go.

I looked all around me for something I could use to pick the lock. I had never tried this before, but I'd read it in books and seen it in movies so I might as well be a professional lock-picker. That's how it works.

I found nothing around me. Good thing the door is flimsy enough I could just break in! Wait-- that isn't really a good thing...

I just need to relax today. Headache begone!

This one is a bit shorter than I intended, but... If I wrote any farther it might have seemed watered down. Have you ever had watered down juice, or flat soda? It's like that :/

anyway!

Leave a comment, because I love hearing your opinions and talking to you guys!

Add or vote on this for updates!

Or don't... \_(·-· )_/

(But really those comments tho👇💪👏)