Stories of the Street - Nineteen A and B

--- A ---

As the school girls wait at the pedestrian crossing at the very end of the street the blond girl is talking about their baby sitting exploits of the night before.

“So, we were in the little boy’s room and I was looking at some books with the two girls while she,” Pointing to her friend, “was supposed to be reading a book to the boy.”

“Yes,” agreed the dark haired girl, “and he kept saying things like, ‘You’re supposed to read it so that I can see the pictures.’ And I say to him that he shouldn’t be looking at the pictures because he needs to be going to sleep and he tells me that he sleeps with his eyes open. You can’t, I say and he says back, ‘Yes I can, look!’ and he lies their on the bed sort of rigid with his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling and he says, ‘See, I’m asleep.’”

“He is so cute!” claims the blond girl, “And then she is reading the boy this book, right, and she comes across one of those words that fairy stories have, you know, one of those made up ones, and she just blurts out, ‘What the hell’s that?’ and I shoot her one of those looks.”

“Yes, and I go, ‘Sh…, sorry!’ almost saying shit, and the oldest girl grabs the book and says that she will read it. But how crazy is this, she picks up my glasses and puts them on, then reads the whole story through wearing them and she is word perfect. She is such a smart little kid. But then, at the end, she closes the book and takes off the glasses. She waves them around and asks, ‘Whose glasses are these?’ and when I say that they are mine she shakes her head and looks at me and says, ’No wonder you couldn’t read the book!’ and tosses them back to me!”

They cross the road on a little wave of shrieks and laughter.

--- B ---

The night shift ended some time ago and she is in her own bed, comfortable and warm, so tired she almost feels like crying and still she cannot sleep.

The strange, feathery motes of dust spiral and swim around in the thin shaft of sunlight that thrusts across the room from the tiny gap in her heavy curtains. She can hear the noises of the street below and some idiot has turned on some stupid rock music in one of the flats further along the street. She can hear it through the walls – it may even be penetrating and reverberating in the empty flat next door – and she can hear it through the window, too.

She is going to try the relaxation techniques she learned last week. This will be her second attempt. The first might have worked if the music had not started. Her instructor from the course she took was very nice. It took place in such a convenient place, too. You can almost see it from the living room window it’s so close by. Start with the feet, she had been told.

I’ve tried it that way already so lets try it another way. Starting with her skull she began the process.
“I don’t care if it is completely the wrong way. I’m sooo tired, I need to sleep.”

She was asleep in less than five minutes.