Woman With a Trolley – A short story

What if I told you that this was from a writing stream in June 2021? Anyway, I saw this sitting around in my drafts, deleted the entire thing, and rewrote it. I frankly am not too happy with this because it’s something that I forced through a lack of inspiration, but I don’t think the day will ever come where I am happy with it, and it risks sitting in my drafts forever if I operate in this manner.

The story behind this was that one night when I was out for a jog, I saw this lady crossing the road away from a crossing, and this car had to make an emergency stop to avoid running into her. But this woman is completely unfazed and continues crossing the road. Now, I have seen her around my estate a few times, and she appears to have issues with her joints that affect her mobility somewhat. The long and short is that she continues crossing the road at that same speed, seemingly completely unfazed.

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough. Here you go.

She gives nothing but a blank stare at the car that has screeched to a halt just mere centimetres away from her and the trolley she is pushing around. The occupant, or occupants of the car are shrouded by the night on the roads, with only streetlamps faintly giving them darkened shadows that move around within. Gesticulating, waving, looking back and forth around the car, the kind that one does when they talk to others in the car. Except the driver, who seems to be directing something at her, stopped by the car windows and the hum of a couple cars that sped by.

The woman continues her crossing, pushing her trolley along, wilfully ignoring how she had nearly caused a road traffic accident. One step, followed by another; far too slow for someone crossing a busy road away from a crossing. She has other places to be. Her friends are waiting for her – more of her friends are waiting for her, rather. In the trolley are several cans of unopened cat food. Those that had been opened had already been left with some of her friends earlier, and she would be going to meet the rest of them. When they met, they would regard her with curiosity, because of the scent of cats they did not know, mixed with the aroma from the cans that human noses could not detect until they were opened.

Apartment buildings tower in the distance. She was almost reaching home after a day out meeting her friends. It was late; she knew for sure, but didn’t know just how late. She could have brought her phone with her, but it seemed more like a liability than anything, considering it never rang from messages and calls. To top it off, she still had to think of charging it after.

So it was fortuitous that someone – a boy – was out jogging, and coming in her direction.

“What’s the time now?”

The boy slows while pulling his phone from a wristband. “10:30.”

He answers just like Rajah as he grew up, she thought. “Thank you,” she says.

The boy leaves first. The woman lifts and lugs her legs forward. Her stiffened, arthritic joints made them feel like burdens, like two loads that she has to drag around. The pain in them had lessened over time, though it was more due to a mix of medication as well as simply getting accustomed to it as time went by.

She finds a good spot, a usual spot, at the back of one of the many apartment buildings. Quiet, yet not completely dark. Near a carpark, where lots of cats liked to sleep under the parked vehicles at night, warmed by the remnant heat that dissipated from freshly-parked cars.

The cats had already gathered, calling out in anticipation with high-pitched meows. Like how kids react when they see their parents when they are still small, her thoughts emphasise like someone trying to get in an unneeded parting shot.

She bends into her trolley, leaning on the handle for support, picking out can after can of cat food. Spoonful after spoonful are spread out on pieces of food wrapping paper, and once she stands back up, the cats take the cue. They dive into the food, stuffing their mouths full, and the meows become quiet slurping and smacking sounds. She believed she heard the cats purring as well.

Every cat had a different personality of their own. Most of the cats slinked off immediately after eating their fill, preferring not to be with other cats for too long. Some were content – or too lazy to move, and plopped down against the wall. Usually they were the same few. The brownish one, with a plump neck and a short neck. That one with a mix of ginger, almost-black brown. There was another one, but with more ginger on their face, and yellow eyes instead of green ones. The one with yellow eyes and more ginger yawned lazily. The sight reminded her of happier yesterdays from years and decades back.

She feels tiredness setting in. Right, it was likely midnight already. She also at this moment remembers the medical appointment tomorrow morning.

She would be going because Devi was coming over to make sure of this. I shouldn’t disturb your work, was what the woman had said, but the daughter had insisted. As such, she now had no excuse or means to skip this appointment, and the cats would probably have to go hungry.  At least, with her daughter, she didn’t need to go to the hospital alone this time around. Bright as it was in its paint coat, it was still a hospital, and she would rather not be there.

Eat well tonight, she said in her head to the cats, as she leaves them behind, and heads on home.

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