Describe the sights and sounds at the end of a long day.
“Cuckoo! Cuckoo!…” the cuckoo clock on the wall of my office called five times.
“Yes!” I shouted in my head. “Time to pack up!”.
I straightened my stiff back and neck, the result of hours of hunching over documents and surveyed the whole noise-polluted room. Andrew was yelling at Mac for throwing a paper plane at him; Mandy and Lily were chatting animatedly, undoubtedly about clothes or make-up; Jay and Rayne were chatting up Sarah, the new clerk, probably trying to get her to go for a drink; and Cynthia was doing the waltz in her three-inch heels, heading out the door.
With a grunt, I pushed my chair back, heaved myself up, started stuffing things into my briefcase and my huge handbag. I couldn’t wait to get home.
As I stepped out through the glass doors of the air-conditioned building, a blast of hot, humid air slammed me full in the face, stunning me for a few seconds. Then I continued towards the bus stop. I groaned
aloud when I saw the hordes of people gathered there and regretted leaving my car at home. Sigh! I had no choice but to join the crowd.
Buses came and left. Every time it was the same anxious craning to read the bus number above the heads of the crowd. Then, there was the rushing and jostling as I tried to force my puny frame through the
masses of burly men and women. I was ready to perish amidst the petrol fumes and the stink of stale sweat when I finally managed to squeeze my right foot onto a bus step. Then, up I went, forced by the
pushing crowd into the packed bus.
Feeling woozy and yet hyped up, I searched for a seat. No way! They were all definitely occupied. I grabbed hold of a strap and tried to stand firmly Every time the bus lurched forward, we would all sway
backwards. The bus hurtled on, careening madly round corners, only to stop with a sudden jolt. I was crushed on all sides, and had my toes trod on several times.
Then, we got caught in a massive traffic jam. Cars, buses and motorcycles around us kept up a constant honking. The burning rays of the sun stoked up the oven which our bus had now become. I became nauseous and thought many times about getting off. Yet, I was too tired to walk home. Inch by inch we moved and one and a half hours later, I finally arrived at my stop, which, thankfully, was just in front of
my flat. I shoved my way out, my strict upbringing forcing me to mutter a few insincere “Excuse-me’s”.
I dragged my body up the flights of stairs to my second-floor flat. I did not even bother to try the elevator as I knew I would be competing with a crowd of thirty or more residents. Finally, I reached my door
and, after a little fumbling for my keys, I entered my apartment. With a sigh of utmost relief, I dropped my briefcase and handbag on the floor, turned on the television and collapsed on the couch. “All in
a day’s work, my girl!” I told myself, and gazed with unseeing eyes at the television.
