Narrative Story
I’m a 30 year old mother of one, young, free and single.
I’m on the way to a job interview in the centre of London. When I step onto the platform, fortunately my train arrives straight away. I quickly approach the train but the doors are shutting. However an elderly woman from inside the train holds the doors for me. We sit down together as I’m saying thank you for her consideration. I introduce myself, and so does she with the name of Joan Collins, as we started chatting, she would re-apply her blood red lipstick while checking her smoky eyed makeup. I could tell she was conscience of her appearance, as she returned her gaze back at me. After countless train stops in a muggy crowded carriage, Joan notices a little picture of my daughter on my keys but no wedding band on my finger. She assumes politely that it could be my niece or younger sister. I enlighten her that the picture of the youngster, named Rosa, smiling from ear to ear is my seven year old daughter, from my first intimate relationship. As I told Joan, her hazel colored eyes pieced through me with a curious glare. Subsequently, asking “how did this happen?” I checked how many stops until I reach London, and knew I had time to give Joan an answer. I start to explain how I met my daughter’s father. All starting with a school reunion.