The following passage was assigned for our English class to practice telling stories with creative writing.
Nick is about to be ten minutes late for work for his bellhop post at Le Chocolate Crossaint hotel. He's been working there for seven months, two weeks, and three days. Words cannot describe the passionate hatred he feels for his occupation and boss.
He woke up after letting his 6:30 alarm ring for fifteen minutes and took his sweet time ordering his usual hazelnut coffee at the neighborhood cafe. Nick finally took the subway, two trains after he should have embarked. He sat and stared while blasting Pepper from his earphones. The seconds ticked by, giving him too much time to think.
Getting up at his stop, passing the turnstile, he knows: Today's the day. Now here he is, swinging through the swiveling glass doors of the hotel. He interrupts the man already yelling at him about the uniform he's not wearing. With three quick steps he delivers a blow stopping him mid-sentence.
With his boss' blood streaming down his fist, Nick is now unemployed.
*This picture was taken from Bill Sullivan's Turnstile Photography Project site
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