The journey on the train was delayed, like it often was. Devyn heard the latest announcement stiffen in the air, the promise the train would move again soon. Today’s delay was caused by leaves on the tracks. She’d waited before for green lights, snow, wind, for struck deer, for struck people. But never had the train paused to see a rainbow, brighter than ever before, never for a flock of birds looping like art in the sky. It was always something mundane, like all sense of freedom had been wiped from her day. And as the train continued, thundering through another city, she supposed it had. Her view was only of litter, of tall concrete tainting white clouds with grey. Water covered in thick brown sludge, trees dying.
The train called into her station. She picked her workbag from the floor, her fingers reluctantly clasping the strap. Joining the maddened rush to exit, she filtered amongst the people, often being pushed into the walls. She went to shout back in retaliation as the latest person barged into her. But the words died before even creeping up her throat and the man had rushed away too quickly regardless.
She reached the ticket gates, the repetitive beeping etching into her mind. Scanning her own, she left the station. Her work was a simple ten-minute walk. Forcing her feet to commit to the journey, she felt her mind wander. She steered herself back to the path twice before accepting defeat and leaving her commute.
Feeling her pace accelerate, Devyn dropped her laptop bag. It was a chain around her wrist, weighing her down, pulling her into the centre of the world to smoulder and burn with it. She kicked off her heeled office shoes when she reached the first stretch of grass.
Her toes curled in the greenery, a new-born deer finding its feet. She ran, arms wide, smile wider, wind tossing with her blazer’s sleeves. She threw the jacket away, letting the yellow sun settle on her arms, a natural warmth. She stopped, panting, and stood at the edge of a river. Flowers scattered the boundary like colours on a painter’s palette, neon and shining.
She stared into the water, blue currents lapped around moss coated rocks, orange fish swimming amongst them. The city stood behind her, a statue at a gravestone, but she ignored it. Breathing deep, she waded into the river.
Cold water nipped at her skin, but she didn’t flinch. It settled at her hips, staining her office shirt. Her fingers twisted through the surface, writing stories in the water. She led down, letting the river hold her. Watching the clouds drift overhead, Devyn floated downstream.
She was a bottle cast out to sea, countless messages locked inside her, screaming, begging to be set free. To smash against a rock and finally be heard. But she hadn’t uttered a single word since she customarily wished everyone a good evening and left the office the day prior. She tried it, speaking, letting words escape her like a baby’s first attempt. Words that were hers, not processed into a document and forgotten.
Colours were the only thing she could think to say. Pink called to mind flowers, a gifted bouquet. Green was the view from a plane, travelling to see the world. Black was dark nights spent entwined with someone special.
Grey was Monday. Grey was every day after.
Devyn felt the water become rougher, new words filtering through her ears. But they were not her own.
“Devyn, file this,” a man stood over her, anger clearly staining his face.
How many times had he asked her to complete the task? Standing from her desk, Devyn took the collection of papers, absently skimming through their contents. The man left, without thanking her, or showing any consideration for her time.
Finding the correct shelf she stored the document away, under somebody else’s dreams. Somebody else’s successes. Returning to her seat she stared at the tepid water in her chipped glass. She couldn’t remember pouring it, but no one would have done it for her.
Devyn began to type. The words lulled onto the page, a delay between the keyboard and the screen littered the document with spelling errors. She sighed, no matter how many requests she put in for new equipment the issue was never addressed. Her words were always difficult to craft, for others to see.
Taking a drink, the warm water felt like slime seeping down her throat. She rose to refill it, noticing the dark clouds over the city. She watched the day bleed, slip into another. And she vowed that tomorrow she would not return. She would find the joy in colours again.
If you liked this story and would like to help more writers like this publish their work, please consider supporting our writers and artists by becoming a member HERE.
