I woke up in the morning around 11:30 after hearing a gradual noise in the distance. The noise interfered with my imaginative dream as it slowly took over my different world. I opened my eyes and realized that I was in reality-- the real world. The noise came from my mother. She told me to wake up, and so I did. I lifted myself out of the mattresses and placed my two feet on the ground. The book that I had placed on the corner of the table from last night had fallen on the ground. In shock, I immediately picked up the book and the front corner of the book was bent. I straightened it out so that it barely looked damaged and placed it near my bedside. I personally wanted to keep this book looking clean and new. It is a book that I, so far, enjoy, and because of its brilliance, I wanted to keep this book flawless as ever. But the moment the front cover had bent, my hopes splattered on the ground, like a paint ball that had been shot on the wall.
It was a Saturday and a beautiful day, so I figured why not take a stroll outside. I approached the station and waited for the train to arrive, which took only about 2 minutes. I walked into the car and held on to pole nearest to the closing doors. A few seconds later, I faced front and saw a classmate of mine standing with her blue hoodie. I felt like I should've said hi, but there were just too many people standing directly in front of me that it seemed awkward to just holler out of nowhere. So I didn't.
It was so past noon, and I didn't eat lunch yet. It was four. Four pm. I decided to eat at Chipotle for the second day in a row, and ordered the usual chicken burrito. My mom, unsure of what she wanted, ordered a burrito bowl. A bunch of college students and young teens were joyfully eating and socializing amidst us. Mostly groups, and some alone. A man with an orange sweatshirt who did not look as though he was okay, was sitting by the windows. Minutes later, somebody had aggressively pushed the door open. It was the man with the orange sweatshirt. The young teens and everyone else at Chipotle all stared at the man with a curious look. He did not walk away from the restaurant. He stood outside in the front door with his back turned away gazing at the distance at some pedestrian on the street. Who knew what he was doing. Minutes later he entered back in the restaurant and walked slowly around, glaring at the people like a murderer or a criminal.
His face was slim, but his eyes were the most scariest feature. They had this evil look. Whenever you would look at his eyes, you'd freak out. He didn't reek, nor was he poorly dressed. He wore regular jeans and sneakers, which both seemed to have a suitable fit for him. He continued to walk around like an animal waiting for its prey. Whenever a person had finished eating and approached the door, the man would follow him and approach him in the face with an extremely scary glare and then push him with his body. He did this to several people. He might've taken drugs or something. He continued to walk around. I was sitting near him, but in a place where he wouldn't notice. Still, I felt as though I were trapped the moment I saw him. His eyes. I've never felt this scared. What would I do if he came to me? Luckily, the Chipotle employees somehow tried to take care of this mysteriously creepy guy. Without knowing the conclusion, I exited the restaurant, avoiding the man with that orange sweatshirt.
It was the evening as I was walking down the street and saw another classmate holding a college bag. And it was a different classmate; it wasn't the one from the train. I felt that I should've said hi again, but it wasn't the most pleasant moment to do so. So I didn't.
On the way back on the bus, a teacher that I knew called my name and said hi. I said hi back, as he exited from the back door. And this is when I thought, how the world
was pretty small after all. I came home and sat on the couch. Those creepy eyes, I thought.
