Simplicity at its finest
Go in, make your order, get your food, get out. Easy. And yet how was it that I found myself standing in front of the shop now, anxiously trembling as I tried to pluck up the courage to go in. I checked my watch - it was quarter past 5. I still had forty five minutes before the store closed. I had been pep talking myself all day, but somehow I was still lacking courage. Birds flew overhead as they chirped random lyrical nonsense at each other. Cars passed idly as people drove to and fro. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I reminded myself that everything was okay. That nothing was technically wrong, that I could not be hurt. It was a natural instinct of mine, to immediately foresee the worst. The anxiety inside me was like invisible acid reflux threatening to spill out. Across the street, a little toddler cycled past in her miniscule sized bicycle, her mother following closely behind. When I was young I’d run around recklessly all the time, not a care in the world. That was a long time ago. Now, I struggle to do the simplest things. Things that people took for granted, and barely even thought about. Now, that was my challenge, my daily struggle. Now, I let simple tasks hit me over the head and knock me over. People terrified me. It made my insides shrivel and writhe with uncontrollable tension.
But I was ready, I told myself. I had practiced this with Roy many times. So with that in mind, I took a deep breath, fought against the paralyzing fear, and pushed open the door.
Bells jangled softly as it swung open.