By the end of June, the weather had begun to heat up. Even with the subway's air conditioning on, the crowded space was filled with an unpleasant smell that made people frown.
The subway in B City always seemed to be in rush hour, with cars packed full of people. Sara Rose sat in a hard-won seat, her features scrunched together in a frown. But due to her round and cute appearance, she looked like she was pouting rather than angry.
So the middle-aged man next to her grew bolder, reaching out again to touch her slender waist.
Sara clenched her backpack, her teeth grinding together.
Ordinarily, she wouldn't dare to say anything.
At most, she would just stand up and move away from such a person.
But today, she had just quit her job because of her idiotic colleague and was full of pent-up anger. This guy was practically asking for it! Enough was enough! No more tolerance!
She lifted her foot high in the air, shifting it an inch sideways before slamming it down hard onto the middle-aged man's foot. In one swift motion, she jumped to her feet, pointing a finger at his nose as she unleashed a tirade, "Hands off, hands off, can't keep your damn hands to yourself, huh? Touch again and I'll make sure you lose that hand! What a creep! Pfft!"
As soon as she finished speaking, the subway arrived at the station. As soon as the doors opened, Sara darted out.
She ran out of the station and kept looking back nervously, only relaxing when she confirmed that the pervert hadn't followed her.
She was still a coward, lacking the courage to confront people head-on.
Sara handed in her resignation letter and left today. When she got home, it was only five o'clock in the afternoon. Her parents were not home yet. But when she entered, she still called out weakly, "I'm home."
Feeling sticky and uncomfortable, she took a shower. As she was doing her skincare routine, she sighed as she looked at her face in the mirror.
She's 25 now, three years out of college, and living in the bustling city. So you'd think she'd fit the urban beauty mold. But there she is, sporting an unusually innocent face, complete with lingering baby fat on her cheeks and a pair of big, round eyes. Even standing at a height of 5'3", she comes across as a total softie.
This appearance was quite popular in school, and Sara had always been well-liked since childhood. But in society, this kind of look meant being easily bullied and manipulated.
Sara wasn't exactly known for being assertive, and she hated drama. Otherwise, she wouldn't have put up with her senior's bullying for three long years before finally quitting today.
She didn't dare mention in her resignation that she had endured two months of working on a project only for her senior to take credit for it. Instead, she just gave some vague excuse and called it quits.
Thinking about this made Sara feel even more depressed. She wanted to stand on the balcony to look at the scenery, but all she saw were skyscrapers and visible smog.
She felt even worse.
The scheming and competition in the big city had exhausted her. She even felt that she might as well go home and sell sweet potatoes.
Halfway through her sigh, Sara suddenly lifted her head, her eyes shining brightly.
"So," Sara sat cross-legged on the sofa, looking at her parents across from her. She spread her arms wide and declared, "I've decided to go back home!"
Mr. Rose and Mrs. Rose exchanged glances for a few seconds. Mr. Rose broke the silence first, "Back to the farm?"
"Of course not," Sara paused, then she added, "Well, not really, but mostly I just wanna get away, breathe some fresh air. The air in here is a nightmare, you know? Our hometown though, with all those trees and cute little bridges over streams—it's like a postcard, just as nice as any fancy getaway spot." "Plus, I won't have to fork out for a place to stay, and I haven't been back in forever. So, yeah, I figure it's a good time to head home and chill for a bit," Sara remarked casually.
In Sara's memory, Westbrook Hamlet was a beautiful place. She had lived there with her grandmother since childhood until her grandmother passed away when she was thirteen, and she moved to B City with her parents.
Now that the idea of going back is in her head, it's like a spring weed – just can't help but sprout and push its way out.
She talked on and on, and Mr. Rose listened, though still frowning with concern, "Aren't you afraid of getting car sick again?"
Sara had severe motion sickness, feeling nauseous as soon as she got in a car. She could barely tolerate journeys within five minutes, but the hour-long bus trip from the station to Westbrook Hamlet was a different story altogether. It was why she hadn't been back in all these years – after that initial trip to the city where she ended up vomiting bile and spending two days in the hospital, she just couldn't bring herself to endure another ride up to B City.
That incident really scared Mr. Rose and Mrs. Rose. For over a decade, during annual family memorial visits around the holiday season, only one of them goes back home to pay respects, while the other stayed with her. They were too afraid to make her endure such a long trip again.
Sara was scared too, but with a determined spirit, she declared, "One bout of nausea for months of happiness! This time, I plan to stay until you come back after Christmas. I need time to think about my future. I'm really tired of all the mind games. I can't compete, I just can't."
Mr. Rose and Mrs. Rose naturally inquired about the situation. Sara gave a rough explanation, then steered the topic back to Westbrook Hamlet.
With her laying it all out like that, her doting parents naturally didn't object. They settled on a date for her return, triple-checked that they didn't need to accompany her, and then spent a good while reminiscing about Sara's childhood in Westbrook Hamlet. As they chatted, the conversation inevitably drifted to one particular person.
Jamie Warner.
