The mailbox...

I completely forget about it when I start to make my long journey home. Minding my own business while I listen to Adele to drawn out the screaming babies, and the loud conversation of the women behind. Looking out the window, I think about what I have to do for school, how hungry I am, or that funny joke Mr. Miles told about Andre today in class. Before I know it, my bus stop comes. I excuse myself through the long aisle of people on the bus, wishing I had gone out the back. I finally get off after thanking the bus driver, which most people normally don't do. I feel kind of bad for them, because I know how much I hate SEPTA and I can only imagine how bad they feel. So I hope that maybe my "thank you" will make them feel like someone appreciates their job, and understands their struggle. Anyway, the air has been colder these days, and the winds stronger, so I fight my way on the quick journey home. Then there it is, I see it as I arrive on my tiny block of Uber st. "Aww Man, I forgot" I whisper to myself. Stopping in my tracks I shortly contemplate turning back around, but then I remember it's after 7 and I can't use my transpass is up, I'm trapped so I must continue. Walking up the steps, I swear I hear that scary music that comes on right before you die in movies. I stick my arm out, and lift up the lid. Holding my breathe in fair of what I may find. I lean over and see..... A Vogue magazine, and a PECO bill. I breath out, "No rejections" I whisper to myself. I walk up the steps feeling a bit better then I did before. But oh no, I forgot about my email... To be continued...