There were a lot of things that Promise didn’t like about her occupation. It was embarrassing to talk about! She couldn’t exactly walk around and brag that she wrote… unsavory things for a living. She had tried to write other things, really, she had! But they were hard. This… this was so easy, she’d pinned down a target market, and as long as what she wrote ticked their boxes, Promise was in the clear. She wished she were a children’s book writer, or something sweet like that, but she was stuck with what she had. At least for now.
But! Like all things, there was a good and a bad side. The good, really the best, was that she could work by just relaxing at home. She didn’t have to go to a place every day, and do the same thing, or fall into a formula. She could just sit down with her notebook or laptop and work wherever, and more importantly, whenever she felt like it.
Promise was focused, and her fingers were flying across the keyboard while she was tucked away in the large bay window of her upstairs bedroom, overlooking the town of Foxbridge, facing the east, with the early morning sun warming her up. She was comfortable, and she was working hard, until…
“Promise, can you come down here!”
“Coming, mother!” Promise said, quickly shutting her laptop and dropping it into its carrying case. She peered out the window, and down at the luscious garden behind the two story home. While her parents had been fruit farmers ‘back in the world,’ too, they both claimed that things seemed to grow better in Foxbridge. Promise liked to say that it was her doing — after all, she only stayed with her parents for the sole purpose of helping with the garden, so it had to be her at least a little bit, right? She already knew she was being called down for; it was time to carry in the fruits (ha, Promise was clever — writer and all) of their labor, so her mother could prepare it for display at the shop.
Her parents were old, and they weren’t getting any younger. They weren’t like other people that lived in their cute little town; they weren’t going to live forever. Her parents were just… average. In fact, as far as Promise knew, there was only one other person in the entire town that was as average as her parents were, and even she seemed strange… Who spoke to their cooking supplies, honestly? The point was, her parents weren’t exactly the best for carrying crates of fruits into the kitchen, especially when considering most of the fruits in question were large and heavy, like watermelon. It was watermelon season; though to be honest, it seemed like it was always watermelon season in their house.
“I’m already dressed and ready for the day, so I can’t be rolling around in the dirt.” Promise tutted, smiling at her mother as she came down the stairs, and the older woman shook her head and nodded. Promise looked over her mother’s shoulders, and to the back porch. “I’m going to the Morning Star today —”
“You’re always going to the Morning Star. Is there a boy? When do we meet him?”
“What? Why would there be a… no, there isn’t a boy. I’ve told you before, I don’t… like people very much. It’s not exactly… easy for me to interact with others. I don’t get on well?” Promise gave a small smile, one that was almost sad as she heaved a crate of melons onto the table. Besides, she had a reason for going to the cafe this time, one that not even her mother could tease her about. “There’s a talent show being hosted there, and I want to ask Q and Jag what they think about me being one of the judges. After all, I do spend a lot of my time there, silently judging. I’m sure I’ll be good at this sort of thing.”
As Promise dropped the last crate on the table, her mother laughed and nodded her agreement. “You have a point. Alright, just make sure you let that Q boy know to stop by the store and pick up what he ordered, alright?” After her mother finished talking, Promise nodded her agreement, and kissed the older woman on the cheek, before she grabbed here laptop bag and headed toward the door. Just like that, she was on her way to her stomping grounds.
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