........"Outrageous! Impossible!! Like is this the universe just being mean or did I do anything to deserve such ...........ugh!!" Sue had been so awfully fed up of it. Every other time. The sun was hot. The car was black. The traffic was thick! And when I say thick I mean thick like THICK!!......bumper to bumper would be an understatement really. She was behind one of these transit lorries. She so awfully wanted to at least get a little peep of where it ended, maybe even what the reason for it was. She scrolled through her Whatsapp. Then her Viber. It was so sad, but also hysterical at the same time, the way she had countless friends but she was in the ' Lemme go online' mood, there was nothing in there. Even a hi. Or even a missed call for Pete's sake!!
Boredom never got worse than this, well, maybe except for that awfully monotonous moment of being in hospital all alone and waiting for blood test results for almost an hour. So she dozed in little installments after noticing there was a little time before she'd move a few.......centimetres. She was suddenly hit by the thought of the infamous motorcyclists. It seemed to bother her that they, of all people, were able to maneuver through the chaotic traffic. Maybe it was karma, she was always cursing them anyway. Just the sight of them made her rage. She could recognise the noisy motors from a whole train away!
She could even pull up at the side of the road and just stay there till it was all moving. One thing to be thankful for, she wasn*t with Jenny and Kim. Now that would be just straight up torturous. Imagine it, a black car, a tarmac road, all the sunlight in the world, that kind of crave that can*t be ignored, bad hair and then kids!! Kids would be the death of her at this point. She could almost hurl from all that made up crisis! It had now been about an hour and in her estimation, she*d moved literally a hundred metres! She crossed her fingers and checked her Instagram.......no DMs. None at all!! " Thank God for Twitter", she heaved as she scrolled through all the latest tea and drama and craze and gossip that was going on in her hilariously problematic country..
She had some bites in the back but really, nobody wants to take a hot lunch right under the nose of the carelessly hot sun. That would a little bit stupid, . So she adjusted her seat and put on her painfully expensive JBL headphones and drowned into all the RnB there was in her phone. On shuffle cause it really didn*t matter what was playing so long as it was in the RnB playlist. It was soothing, really soothing. Almost got her to forget that she was on the road in the middle of traffic. Yeah, she was drifting there numbly. She was worn out like that.
She noticed a bit later that they had actually started to move .......really!! Like an oasis in the Sahara(They aren't that easy to find by the way). It was funny , she was always as excited to see that the traffic was lighter. She was glad she would at least get to the conference. Many hours late....but still, she would get there. "Better three hours late than a minute too soon," she said to herself. She only had a bit before it ended- at about twelve thirty.
Mrs. Potter wouldn't say a thing, she assumed it would always be like that- a late late Lady Sally. She never bothered asking after three days of the same incident......and that was about half a year ago! Sally had to be grateful for that......you don*t find bosses that nice everywhere. Anywhere even! She found her way, stealthily as she could ,to the hall. Everybody saw her. She always had the same entrance. Slow walk. Silent as she could. Trying to stay as unregarded as possible......but more often getting all eyes facing her twice. She noticed but acted like she hadn't. "Beautiful morning, isn*t is fellows?" .....she asked like she always did. A greeting, a hidden greeting. And about three seats to her left, someone purred, "Who's gonna tell her?". It was Blake. This time she heard it- he said that every time she arrived. She sat drowning in the thought for quite some time, the she glanced at her watch.She hit her head in dismay. Eleven fifty five p.m.