Note: English is not my first language and on top of that, this is the first story I have ever written. If you desire a story void of grammatical mistakes and with a rich vocabulary, this is not it. However, if you decide to read this story and want to give constructive criticism, know that I appreciate it.
Where to find love
Should one find love based on feelings, or with values?
Prologue
The train is rather empty at this time of the day. It left at 14:39 and it takes me 24 minutes to get me where I need to be. I'm holding a book in my hands but I'm not actually paying much attention to it. I stop with my mindless staring at the pages and look up through the window of the train, seeing houses and trees appear and disappear from my view. I notice things that are closer to me are seemingly moving much faster than objects further away. I try to remember my high school physics lesson. Or is the answer to be found in biology? I cannot recall. Science never was my strong suit. Luckily, I have a friend who is a lot more knowledgeable. The two of us have been friends since we were twelve, meeting each other at our first year in high school. She spent most of her teenage years behind her books while I went to parties, drinking and dancing. Not that I regret those times. We all make choices in life. We all decide for ourselves where we put our values and where we get our happiness from.
I had a happy and carefree youth, like most other teenagers. Yet it is a fact that my friend has the better paying job now. Only logical. She went to university and even achieved a PhD while I just got a bachelor degree. I won't complain about it though. I have a great job at a rather successful company where I work as a graphical designer. That was rather lucky. Few jobs in that field of work, but much demand. That day, on the day of the job interview, I wore one of my more revealing shirts. Since the person handling my job application was a male who would become my boss if I got the job, I decided to exploit one of the bigger weaknesses of men. Big, natural breasts. I am blessed in that area. And on top of that, my teenage years have given me some experience with handling men. That man taking the interview never stood a chance. My friend Ellen has less experience in that area.
As far as I know, she only lost her virginity after she turned 20. By the time I turned 20, I needed my second hand to count the guys I had slept with. I notice the man sitting in front of me on the train staring at me. Or rather, my body. He looks up. When our eyes cross, he smiles. I decide to ignore him and continue looking through the window. I can just about see the reflection of myself in the glass. Sara, a 29-year-old woman. My long, light blonde hair is put in a high ponytail on my head, like every workday. My eyes, brown of color, are surrounded by a rather heavy eyeliner and dark eyeshadow. Together with a pink lipstick, my eyes contrast nicely with my light hair color and lips.
With my rounded face, my tanned skin and a curvy figure with big breasts I turn quite the amount of male, and occasionally female, heads. I look good, especially when I pick my clothes right, which I know how to do. I have always looked good, and I know it. Every time I go out with Ellen, men do not pay her much attention, yet as far as I know, it has never bothered her. She is skinny, has been wearing glasses for as long as I can remember and doesn't have much of a figure to speak of. Her little hills on her chest don't indicate a high fertility to the men either. A little smile appears unconsciously on my face. I am really lucky, having a friend like her. She is someone I can trust, someone I can depend on, someone who can keep a secret. I take out my phone.
"Are you eager to get my number?" the guy sitting in front of me asks. "You know, I don't give it to just any pretty girl I meet in the train." He winks.
"Sorry, I have a boyfriend," I reply. The smile of the guy disappears.
"Oh, that's unfortunate. Bad luck for me. I won't bother you again."
I turn my eyes down towards the screen of my phone and start typing a text message.
I'm in the train. The trees far away from me move rly slow, while the trees closer to me move quicker. Why...?
A moment later, my phone vibrates in my hand.
It's because of the cone of the vision of your eyes. Imagine an equilateral triangle, where your eyes are one point and the only thing you can see is what's inside of the triangle. The distance between the edges of the sides increases the further away from your eyes it is. So, when two things move at the same speed, going from one side to the other, things closer to you will reach the other side much quicker, thus spending less time in your field of view.
Biology it is. Ellen has a PhD in chemistry while I have my bachelor in graphic design, although this basic science is probably known to most high-school graduates. Just like science, there have been many other subjects I barely passed. Things would probably have turned out differently if I had never met Ellen. And not for the better. After putting away my phone, I grab my book again. Not that I read a lot. In fact, I only read exactly one book every year. For Christmas, Ellen always gifts me a book. If not for her, I would probably never read any. It takes me a while, but I always manage to finish it before the next Christmas, mostly because then I can talk to her about it.
A sound echoes through the train as I hear the name of my city. That's my stop. I put away my book, stand up and start walking out. When I step out of the train, I take a quick look at the clock hanging in the station. It's just past 15 hours. I'm home rather early. Almost two hours early in fact. A technical defect with the servers and a problem with something called 'back-up' has made work for me nearly impossible until the IT guys would fix it. When they told us resolving the problem would take two to four hours, my boss decided to send us home early. I walk towards the bus station. The apartment where I live is only five to ten minutes of walking away from the train station, but with the high heels I am wearing, taking the bus is much more comfortable. And besides, I fitness for at least a couple of hours every week. So, it's not like that five-minute walk makes a difference.
A little while later, I enter my apartment building. Alex mentioned this morning he would probably be home before me, but that was when he expected me to be home at five. I walk up the stairs, wondering about what I will do with my extra free time. Normally I cook alone. But perhaps, if Alex is already home, we can cook something together. We can go a bit slower now, on his pace. Or perhaps we can just cuddle a bit while listening to music or watching something on TV. I take out my keys and open the door. The door is halfway open, the house key still in its lock, when I freeze. My eyes widen, my mouth falls open. "Not again," I whisper. The heads of two people on the couch turn in my direction. Alex is sitting on the couch. A woman with long, blonde hair, is sitting over him, her legs spread.
"Babe... What are you doing?" I ask. But I already know the answer to that question. Tears start to well up in my eyes.
"I uhm... Listen," Alex stammers while the girl removes herself from on top of Alex's legs. "This is..."
"Damn," the girl interrupts Alex's stammering. "You fucked up. I think I'll be going." Before the girl has a chance to start dressing I am already walking down on the stairs.
"Babe, wait!" I look back and see Alex running behind me, naked. His still erect dick bouncing up and down. I ignore his pleads and continue walking downstairs. Alex stops his naked chase of me when he sees me walking out through the door. My next act is unconscious. I simply cannot think. I do what I do every workday morning. I walk to the bus stop, take a bus to the train station and wait on my train for work to arrive. When I'm at the station I take out my phone. Before turning the screen on, I can see a reflection of my face into it. I take my handkerchief out of my pocket and start cleaning the black lines on my cheeks. While holding my phone, I think about the guy who had flirted with me on the train. It seems like I do not have a boyfriend any longer. I start typing a text message.
