The day Mia died (Weekend freewrite)

The morning had a distinct feeling of Saturday, though she was sure it was not. Almost ten years into her retirement, Mia could not shake off the workweek-weekend rhythm that had shaped her life. Saturday was the day she had breakfast in the living room watching TV and later visit her friend Matilda, maybe head for the park and have cinnamon rolls together, if the weather allowed it. But it was definitely Friday and she had a lot to do. Somebody had to feed the ducks on the small pond at Hampton Gardens, even if that meant a long bus-ride. Tuesdays and Fridays, no later than 10 o’clock she was there with her bag of left-over bread and the occasional corn treat when she got her check.
She put on her cream colored blouse, but on second thoughts added a sturdy woolen jacket, spring days being so unpredictable. Mia loved the ride on the number 11 bus, as it went along the main street and it was always fun to watch the bustle of people and the window displays advertising the new arrivals. Yellow seemed to be the color for the season and she couldn’t recall ever having owned anything that bright. Not that she ever shopped on Main Street, her means did not allow for luxuries and anyway she still had plenty of things to wear from her days in the office. In her 37 years as a secretary, she’d always made sure to be properly dressed, as she had to deal with important clients and what would they think of her boss if she welcomed them in garish clothes?

The three youngsters that got on at Main Square were noisy like most young people these days, but she wasn’t one of those ever grumbling old ladies. She liked young people, she liked their energy and their laughter. Deep down she knew she would have been a good mother, had her fate been different. The two boys and the girl with a pony-tail and a small nose-ring could have been her grandchildren in another life. Hidden behind her dark-framed squarish glasses, her eyes lingered on their faces as she tried to follow their conversation about a party they were all apparently going that evening. Mia felt a small rush of excitement, as she’d never been to that sort of parties. Only family reunions and the odd office party, where she could not allow herself more than a small glass of white wine, because she was Miss Davenport to them and they needed to respect her.

‘What you lookin’ at four-eyes?’
At first, she didn’t understand that the boy in a leather jacket was talking to her. But the young man was turned towards her now, letting out a torrent of rude words and grabbing at his crotch in a most rude gesture. Mia cast down her eyes, pretending to be looking for something in her purse, hoping the boy would leave her alone. That’s what her mother had taught her when she was just a girl, look away and mind your own business. Not that men gave her much trouble, even when she was young. Plain girls with glasses don’t get noticed much.
There were a few other passengers on the bus, but mostly elderly and no one stood up for her. Old people know they’re no match for these loud-mouthed young men trying to impress a girl so they keep quiet. Or else.
Mia’s heart was beating fast when she rose for her stop. She had to pass right by the nasty boys to get to the door and she tried to move as quick as she could, poignantly looking the other way. Spying from the corner of her eye so she could duck if the boy made a move towards her. He almost did, but the pony-tail girl grabbed his arm and drew him near. ‘Leave it, Randy’. He’d got the girl’s attention alright, but he still yelled ‘old fart’ after Mia, to score extra points. They all burst out laughing, shaking wildly when Mia stumbled on the step and went hurtling right into a middle-aged gentleman trying to get on the bus. He grabbed her by the hand and she steadied herself avoiding what could have been a disastrous fall. At her age, an accident that would leave her bed-ridden was one of her main worries. That and losing her minds and ending up wandering the streets, dirty and foul-smelling, for who’d even look for her? Matilda, who took forever to make it to the park at the end of the street?
As the bus left, taking away those horrible young men, Mia struggled to regain her composure and slipped a pill into her mouth to calm her heart. And counted backwards from ten to one, a trick she’d found in a magazine. Didn’t help much, as the boy’s words kept ringing in her ears. Thankfully, there was no one else around who could have heard the boy shouting. His words made no sense, she took great care of her hygiene and her clothes were always clean and ironed, she knew she looked decent and respectable. All her life she’d been nothing but. Could it be the boy was right? The mere thought tore at her heart and she quickened her pace, hoping to put the horrible incident behind.
The woman selling flowers by the garden’s gate smiled at her and told her she looked well, but Mia couldn’t find it in her to stop and chat like she used to. Her whole being had been too rattled, she needed some peace and quiet. The birds were happy to see her. They started swimming furiously towards her, quacking to get her attention. The red-headed one was the loudest as usual. She was the one that always came closer, allowing Mia to pat her bill. But the woman was in no mood for that, not even to scold her favorite playfully, talking to the ducks felt silly. Something an old fart would do. She sat herself on the bench, back held straight, skirt neatly pulled over her knees, hands folded in her lap. The ducks lost interest and drifted towards the bridge where a lady with three kids in tow was busy opening what sounded like a bag of stale bread. Ducks aren’t picky.
Mia always spent an hour by the pond, reading a magazine but she’d been so upset by the incident she’d forgotten to stop and any. She left early. So much more to do.

(To be continued)

The story is pure fiction, yet a woman named Mia once lived in the house in my photo. I don't know if there's anyone left to remember her, which is why she gets to be mentioned on the blockchain.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, the weekend single prompt option! Well, I picked out several prompts like: laughter nose-ring wood, cinnamon! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!