Watching Windows - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My first instinct was to panic. My heart started thumping about in my chest, like a one-man army, and I felt lightheaded and sick. I sat down shakily on the sofa, and put my head between my legs. Gran had told me that was the recovery position. Thoughts of my grandmother came flowing into my head immediately. I loved her nearly as much as my Dad; she was the only person in my family that I’d seemed to inherit genes from. She was slender and a red-head, whereas I was a plump brunette, but she had grey-green eyes the exact same colour as mine.

Gran was the only person who took the time to read my stories. My stories – the long, rambling novels I wrote so I could escape into exotic, thrilling lands and become brave and beautiful characters. An escape from my dreary, black-and-white world into a life of brilliant Technicolor.

Gran didn't exactly comment on them, but when I brought one round she would say, "Put the kettle on, love, and get out the biscuit tin," and then we would munch shortbread, sip tea and I would read the stories to her. Sometimes, she would close her eyes half-way through, and I'd think she'd gone to sleep, so I would stop reading, but then she'd shoot her eyes wide open and pretend to be angry. After that, I always knew she was awake, from the little twitches that her mouth made and the way her eyes flickered under their wrinkled lids. One day though, she closed her eyes for good.


Reality grasped my throat with an icy hand, viciously pulling me back from my sidetrack. I had sidetracks so often; it wasn’t an attention deficit or anything like that. I just hated my normal, dreary life, with all its mishaps and sorrows. Sometimes, things happening would cause a flow of thinking inside of me, giving me a ticket straight into my mind, which, given the choice, I would never leave. Of course, every single time, I was jolted back .

Sighing, I re-read the note. Sellyoak Hospital. How would I get there? I was never allowed to take the bus. I wasn't even allowed to walk to Tesco's, for Pete's sake. I’d obviously have to break the rules for once. Normally I would have jumped at the chance of independence but at that point I felt worried and anxious. I went out the door with shaky legs, swinging my school-bag over my shoulder.

I ran to the bus stop and waited, panting, feeling so self-conscious because there was a bunch of school-girls aged about fifteen hanging around. From the corner of my eye I could see them raising their eyebrows at the sweaty, red-faced, chubby little Year Seven who looked like she was just about dying of asphyxia. I heard one or two of them stifle a giggle, but I didn't hate them for it. If I were them, I'd laugh at me too.

Eventually the bus arrived, letting out smelly fumes, leaking petrol on the road. There was an old man loaded down with heavy bags of shopping in front of me, and I tapped my foot irritably, but then remembered my manners and tried to look calm.

When it finally came my turn, I suddenly realised I hadn't brought enough money with me. I started to panic all over again. I took my heavy bag off, and it clunked around the stairs, threatened to fall right down them.

The bus driver looked impatient, and I could hear some teenage boys behind me swearing under their breath. I fished desperately in the bag and retrieved the little black purse where I kept my lunch money; surely there must be some spare? I always kept extra for emergency. I saw with despair, however, that there were just a few pence rolling around sadly inside. I began sweating even more, and wiped my forehead, getting more frustrated by the second.

"Don't you have enough money, miss?" the driver said, sounding even more impatient than he looked.
I turned bright red. It would be so humiliating to get thrown off in front of all these people. "Um....yes. Just wait please, just let me find it,” I stuttered.

He gave a deep sigh. "Come on, miss. We don't have all day. Yes, er, you, young men, come on while the girl..."

Incidentally, the teenage boys I'd heard cussing came up alongside me and inserted change into the slot. The clinking sound of metal against metal unnerved me.

"Hurry up! If you don't have enough for your fare, you get off.”

My eyes must have become quite red and wet because an old, silver-haired lady put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Stop hassling the girl, young people get so easily flustered! How much is it for a child's fare then, driver?"

So the kindly old lady paid for me, huffing and puffing a bit. I never dared to look her in the eye. I was embarrassed for causing her trouble.

I got a seat opposite the lady, after helping her up the stairs, and as the bus started off, she said, "Well then, where you off to in such a rush?"

I smiled sweetly and finally raised my eyes tentatively. I was amazed at what I saw. The old lady was Mrs Brown, the grumpy ground-floor resident! I gasped, and then collected myself, remembering that she probably thought I'd known from the start who she was. "Uh, to visit my friend. My best friend. From school."

"Oh?" said Mrs Brown."And this friend must mind very much about how early you arrive. You were quite in a hurry, I gathered. Honestly! Young people. Pushing and shoving their whole childhood."

"Oh, that!" I turned red once again - I blush so easily. Giggling nervously, I replied. "Um, yeah. My friend hates people being late. She, uh, appreciates punctuality." Oh sheesh. I wasn't getting myself out of this one very well.

"Pull the other one," Mrs Brown said disapprovingly, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch.

I smiled back, a bit sheepishly, and looked at the floor. "Oh, I...I'm not really going to see my friend, you know."

"Yes, said Mrs Brown, "I know."

"Um, I got a note, um, from my dad. It said to go to Sellyoak. Sellyoak Hospital. About half and hour to get there, right?"

Mrs Brown looked derisively at me. "Oh no, no! Honestly, don't you teenagers know anything about your surroundings?" She tutted. "Sellyoak is at the next stop.That's where I'm going."

"Oh," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Do you have an appointment there?"

Her face darkened and her brow furrowed; something within her seemed to blaze up defiantly."None of your business," she snapped, and we sat in uncomfortable silence. She stared out the window sulkily, which gave me a chance to observe her without being accused of staring.

She had a wrinkled little heart-shaped face, covered in moles, it looked quite worn and leathery, and seemed to tell a story. Every minute or so, she would run a hand through her white hair. It was surprisingly thick and long for such an elderly lady and was pinned up carefully in two knots, on top of her shrunken, fragile-looking skull.

She noticed that I was watching her and reprimanded me for it, raising her eyebrows. They were drawn over in black eyeliner, and peachy-pink lipstick was fading into the cracks of her chapped lips. Her eyes were like dark slits, partially hidden by the folds of wrinkles hanging round their corners.

When she talked, sometimes her hands would flutter tautly, like awkward birds. One hand was on her silver-tipped walking cane, and the other on the handle of her oversized canvas trolley-bag. Her hands were stiff, calloused, and arthritic, laid delicately upon the trolley and cane as if they weren’t part of her body, but gloves she was carrying.

Despite the way time had chipped away at her, it was obvious that she had once been stunning, in her own way. She had beautiful cheekbones; when she was not frowning they looked like tiny almonds.
I was interrupted from my little contemplations as the bus ground to a halt, spraying gravel over nearby bollards.

“There, that's our stop,” Mrs Brown said. “You'd better get off with me, eh? Half an hour away indeed!"

Could I please have some critique/reviews please?

I posted before and no-one's reviewing and it makes me really depressed.

Okay, an over-exaggeration there.

Not meaning to nag.


Thanks so much for your time, guys

Happy writing.

Sarah

CastlesInTheSky wrote:Chapter 2
My first instinct was to panic. My heart started thumping about in my chest, like a one-man army, and I felt dizzy and sick. I sat down on the sofa, and put my head between my legs. Gran had told me that was the recovery position. Immediately thoughts came flowing into my head of my grandmother. I loved her nearly as much as my Dad; she was the only person in my family that I’d seemed to inherit genes from. She was slight and a red-head, whereas I was a plump brunette, but she had grey-green eyes the exact same colour as mine.

I liked this bit.
Gran was the only person who took time to read my stories. My stories – the long, rambling novels I wrote so I could escape into new, exciting lands and become brave and beautiful characters. An escape from my dreary, black-and-white world, into a life of brilliant Technicolor. Nobody else ever seemed to have time to read my stories. Gran didn't exactly comment on them, but when I brought one round she would say, "Put the kettle on, love, and get out the biscuit tin," and then, we would munch shortbread, sip tea, and I would read the stories to her. Sometimes, she would just close her eyes, and I'd think she'd gone to sleep, so I stopped reading, but she'd shoot her eyes wide open and pretend to be angry. After that, I always knew she was awake, from the little twitches that her mouth made. One day though, she closed her eyes for good.

Awww, that's really sad Cleverly done

Reality grasped my throat with an icy hand, viciously pulling me back from my sidetrack. I had sidetracks so often, it wasn’t an attention deficit, or anything like that. I just hated normal, dreary life, with all its mishaps and sorrows. Sometimes, things happening would cause a flow of thinking inside of me, giving me a ticket straight into my mind, which, given the choice, I would never leave. Of course, every single time, I was jolted back.

Sighing, I re-read the note. Sellyoak Hospital. How would I get there? I was never allowed to take the bus. I wasn't even allowed to walk to Tesco's, for Pete's sake. I’d obviously have to break the rules for once. Normally I would have jumped at the chance of independence but then, I felt worried and anxious. But I went out the door, with shaky legs, swinging my school-bag over my shoulder.
I ran to the bus stop and waited, panting, feeling so self-conscious because there was a bunch of school-girls, about fifteen, hanging round. I could see, from the corner of my eye, them raising their eyebrows at the sweaty, red-faced, chubby little Year Seven who looked like she was just about dying of asphyxia. I heard one or two of them stifle a giggle, but I didn't hate them for it. If I were them, I'd laugh at me too.
Eventually the bus arrived, letting out smelly fumes, leaking petrol on the road. There was an old man loaded down with heavy bags of shopping in front of me, and I tapped my foot irritably, but then remembered my manners and tried to look calm. When it finally came my turn, I suddenly realised I hadn't brought enough money with me. I started to panic all over again. I took my heavy bag off, and it clunked around the stairs, threatened to fall right down them. The bus driver looked impatient, and I could hear some teenage boys behind me swearing under their breath. I fished desperately in the bag and retrieved the little black purse where I kept my lunch money; surely there must be some spare? I always kept extra for emergency. I saw with despair, however, that there were just a few pence rolling around sadly inside. I began sweating even more, and wiped sweat off my forehead, getting more frustrated by the second..

Great stuff going on here. Lovely control of the words.


"Don't you have enough money, miss?" the driver said, sounding even more impatient than he looked.
I turned bright red. It would be so humiliating to get thrown off in front of all these people. "Um...er...yes...just wait...please...just let me find it,” I stuttered.
He gave a deep sigh. "Come on, miss. We don't have all day. Yes, er, you, young men, come on while the girl..." And the teenage boys I'd heard cussing came up alongside me and inserted change in the slot. The clinking sound of metal against metal unnerved me.
"Hurry up! If you don't have enough for your fare, you get off," and my eyes must have become quite red and wet because an old, silver-haired lady put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Stop hassling the girl, young people get so easily flustered! How much is it for a child's fare then, driver?"
And the kindly old lady paid for me, huffing and puffing a bit, with the occasional sigh. I never dared to look her in the eye. I was embarrassed for causing her trouble, and felt
I got a seat opposite the lady, after helping her up the stairs, and as the bus started off, she said, "Well then, where you off to in such a rush?"
I smiled sweetly and finally raised my eyes tentatively. I was amazed at what I saw. The old lady was Mrs Brown, the grumpy ground-floor resident! I gasped, and then collected myself, remembering that she probably thought I'd known from the start who she was. "Uh, to visit my friend. My best friend. From school."
"Oh?" said Mrs Brown."And this friend must mind very much about how early you arrive. You were quite in a hurry, I gathered. Honestly! Young people. Pushing and shoving their whole childhood."
"Oh, that!" I turned red, once again. I blush so easily. I giggled nervously. "Um, yeah. My friend hates people being late. She, uh, appreciates punctuality." Oh Sheesh. I wasn't getting myself out of this one very well.
"Pull the other one," Mrs Brown said disapprovingly, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch.
I smiled back, a bit sheepishly, and looked at the floor. "Oh, I...I'm not really going to see my friend, you know."
"Yes, said Mrs Brown, "I know."
"Um, I got a note, um, from my dad. It said to go to Sellyoak. Sellyoak Hospital. About half and hour to get there, right?"
Mrs Brown looked derisively at me. "Oh no, no! Honestly, don't you teenagers know anything about your surroundings?" She tutted. "Sellyoak’s at the next stop.That's where I'm going."
"Oh," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Do you have an appointment there?"
Her face darkened and her brow furrowed; something within her seemed to blaze up defiantly."None of your business," she snapped, and we sat in uncomfortable silence. She stared out the window sulkily, which gave me a chance to observe her without being accused of staring.
She had a wrinkled little heart-shaped face, covered in moles, it looked quite worn and leathery, and seemed to tell a story. Her white hair, which was surprisingly thick and long for such an elderly lady, was pinned up carefully in two knots, on top of her shrunken, fragile-looking skull. Her eyebrows were drawn over in black eyeliner, and peachy-pink lipstick was fading into the cracks of her chapped lips. Her eyes were like dark slits, partially hidden by the folds of wrinkles hanging round their corners. My eyes drifted down to her hands, one on her silver-tipped walking cane, and the other on the handle of her oversized canvas trolley-bag. Her hands were stiff, calloused, and arthritic, laid delicately upon the trolley and cane as if they weren’t part of her body, but gloves she was carrying. When she talked, sometimes her hands would flutter tautly, like awkward birds.
Despite the way time had chipped away at her though, it was obvious that she had once been very pretty. She had beautiful cheekbones; when she was not frowning they looked like tiny soft roses, petals full and open.

I LOVED LOVED LOVED this description (:
I was interrupted from my little contemplations as the bus ground to a halt, spraying gravel over nearby bollards.
“There, that's our stop,” Mrs Brown said. “You'd better get off with me, eh? Half an hour away indeed!"
We rose to our feet, and walked down the aisle, crammed close to the backs of impatient passengers. Gingerly, I took her arm and helped her down the steps. She tutted again, muttering complaints under her breath as she gripped my hand with a wrinkled claw.

Again, some really great stuff.

Keep writing.

I want you to post chapter 3 now (:

X

Again, thanks very, very much, aspiringwritertobe,

And thanks for posting something about my work in the lounge, but it really, really doesn't deserve to be there at all, I mean, there's so many better writers than me on this site and I'm only a junior at this.

But thankyou, you are really motivating me.

--Sarah

Hello again, Castlesinthesky.

Good description. And good second chapter.

Okay, onto mistakes,

she was the only person in my family that I’d seemed to inherit genes from.

Change it to "She was the only person in the family that I seemed to have inherited genes from."

She was slight

Slight? Perhaps you meant slightly something?

but she had grey-green eyes the exact same colour as mine.

Put a comma between "eyes" and "the".

the long, rambling novels I wrote so I could escape into new, exciting lands and become brave and beautiful characters. An escape from my dreary, black-and-white world, into a life of brilliant Technicolor.

A good, great description of a throughly miserable girl. Good work.

at the sweaty, red-faced, chubby little Year Seven

put it like chubby little seven year old.

and I tapped my foot irritably,

Change this to "and he tapped my foot" and cut the "irratably"

I was embarrassed for causing her trouble, and felt

Felt what?

Okay, no more mistakes.

And again you have to put spacing.

And good luck.

Chirantha wrote:Hello again, Castlesinthesky.

Hello to you
Oh, about the "Year Seven", it doesn't mean seven year old , it means like Grade 7, that's what we say for it in England.
Thanks for all your criticsm (: Very, very much appreciated. Thankyou

Sarah

Immediately thoughts came flowing into my head of my grandmother

.
Comma after Immediately.
What helps me out is reading my story out loud so that when I pause, i know where to put a comma.

he was slight and a red-head, whereas I was a plump brunette, but she had grey-green eyes the exact same colour as mine.

You can seperate these two sentences with something like She was slight and a red-head, whereas i was a plump brunette. She had grey-green eyes, the exact same colour as mine.
Which, personally i think is funny because I am a brunette with grey green eyes. ha ha

Gran was the only person who took time to read my stories.

No way! My grandmie reads my stories too!!!

I wasn't even allowed to walk to Tesco's, for Pete's sake.

Whoes Pete? haha just kidding.

But I went out the door, with shaky legs, swinging my school-bag over my shoulder.

Don't start a sentence with a conjuntion. Maybe you could try to just take it out.

And the teenage boys I'd heard cussing came up alongside me and inserted change in the slot.

Ugh! Why couldnt one of the boys pay for her? How rude!

"Yes, said Mrs Brown, "I know."

Missing a quote here.

She had a wrinkled little heart-shaped face, covered in moles, it looked quite worn and leathery, and seemed to tell a story. Her white hair, which was surprisingly thick and long for such an elderly lady, was pinned up carefully in two knots, on top of her shrunken, fragile-looking skull. Her eyebrows were drawn over in black eyeliner, and peachy-pink lipstick was fading into the cracks of her chapped lips.

Love it!

Well, I'm glad you described Mrs. brown. My interpritation of her would have been weird in this situation. Good job with dialog and describing everything. Keep it up.

Thankyou so much for your input, jasmine12.

Haha, who's Pete. Now that did make me laugh
I love reviews with a bit of humour thrown in.

Glad you like the description of Mrs Brown, I was really worried that it was overdone.

Sarah

xxx Thrown in for good measure and because I'm trying to use all the emoticons

Hello, Sarah!

The length of this chapter was great! (I don't like too long chapters, especially if I have to read them on computer.)

She was slight

I think a better word would be either slender or thin.

Gran was the only person who took time to read my stories. My stories – the long, rambling novels I wrote so I could escape into new, exciting lands and become brave and beautiful characters. An escape from my dreary, black-and-white world, into a life of brilliant Technicolor. Nobody else ever seemed to have time to read my stories. Gran didn't exactly comment on them, but when I brought one round she would say, "Put the kettle on, love, and get out the biscuit tin," and then, we would munch shortbread, sip tea, and I would read the stories to her. Sometimes, she would just close her eyes, and I'd think she'd gone to sleep, so I stopped reading, but she'd shoot her eyes wide open and pretend to be angry. After that, I always knew she was awake, from the little twitches that her mouth made. One day though, she closed her eyes for good.

This paragraph was very good! It really tells us something real about Gran. I could almost imagine her in my head, listening to Amelia's stories. It's also cool that you kind of switched the roles – usually the grandmother reads stories to her grandkids and not vice versa.

"Hurry up! If you don't have enough for your fare, you get off," and my eyes must have become quite red and wet because an old, silver-haired lady put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Stop hassling the girl, young people get so easily flustered! How much is it for a child's fare then, driver?"

This is a little too stuffed-up. As you can see, it's almsot like one sentence, even though it should be at least three. If you read it carefully, you'll notice what I mean. It's like you'd try to speak really fast, not taking any breath in between.

the kindly old lady

Are you sure it's not "kind"?

I never dared to look her in the eye. I was embarrassed for causing her trouble, and felt

You felt what? I think you're missing a word here. Also, I think it is "I never dared look", without "to". I'm not exactly sure, though.

"Oh no, no! Honestly, don't you teenagers know anything about your surroundings?"

That doesn't seem very realistic in my opinion. I mean, who says that, anyway?
-------------


In that paragraph in the end (about the fifth to last), where you describe Mrs. Brown, you should be careful. The readers can feel like you're stuffing that info down their throats. You could, for example, place some of the info sneakily between the sentences, all around the chapter. You know, like "...she said, her hands fluttering tautly like awkward birds."

If you don't get what I'm talking about, just PM me.

Other than these nitpicks, nice work, I'll keep reading. See you!


Demeter xxx

Thanks Demeter...

will try to condense description.

x

Mmm..loved it!!

CastlesInTheSky wrote:Chapter 2
My first instinct was to panic. My heart started thumping about in my chest, like a one-man army, .

one-man army... great description!

Reality grasped my throat with an icy hand, viciously pulling me back from my sidetrack.

I think this is my favorite line, it's perfectly descriptive!

Didn't really find anything wrong here.

Happy writing,

Shannon

Thanks so much Sashalno! Was really helpful!

My first instinct was to panic. My heart started thumping [s]about[/s] in my chest, like a one-man army, (good simile) and I felt dizzy and sick. I sat down on the sofa, and put my head between my legs. Gran had told me that was the recovery position.

This is a technical point, but the text in italics is a way to prevent someone feeling faint. The recovery position is different.

[s]Immediately thoughts came flowing into my head of my grandmother.[/s] Thoughts of my grandmother came flowing into my head immediately. I loved her nearly as much as my Dad; she was the only person in my family that I’d seemed to inherited genes from. She was slight and a redhead, whereas I was a plump brunette, but she had grey-green eyes the exact same colour as mine.

Gran was the only person who took the time to read my stories. My stories – the long, rambling novels I wrote so I could escape into new, exciting lands and become brave and beautiful characters. An escape from my dreary, black-and-white world no comma was necessary into a life of brilliant Technicolor. Nobody else ever seemed to have time to read my stories. Gran didn't exactly comment on them, but when I brought one round she would say, "Put the kettle on, love, and get out the biscuit tin," and then no comma we would munch shortbread, sip tea, and I would read the stories to her. Sometimes she would just close her eyes no comma and I'd think she'd gone to sleep, so I stopped reading, but she'd shoot her eyes wide open and pretend to be angry. After that, I always knew she was awake no comma from the little twitches that her mouth made. One day though, she closed her eyes for good. I like how you made this quite sudden - it makes it more sad.

Reality grasped my throat with an icy hand, viciously pulling me back from my sidetrack. I had sidetracks so often, it wasn’t an attention deficit no comma or anything like that. I just hated normal, dreary life, with all its mishaps and sorrows. Sometimes, things happening would cause a flow of thinking inside [s]of[/s] me, giving me a ticket straight into my mind, which, given the choice, I would never leave. Of course, every single time, I was jolted back.

Sighing, I reread the note. Sellyoak Hospital. How would I get there? I was never allowed to take the bus. I wasn't even allowed to walk to Tesco's, for Pete's sake. I’d obviously have to break the rules for once. Normally I would have jumped at the chance of independence, but at that point I felt worried and anxious. [s]But[/s] I went out the door, with shaky legs, swinging my school-bag over my shoulder.

I ran to the bus stop and waited, panting, feeling so self-conscious because there was a bunch of school-girls, about fifteen of them, hanging around. [s]I could see,[/s] From the corner of my eye, I could see them raising their eyebrows at the sweaty, red-faced, chubby little Year Seven who looked like she was just about dying of asphyxia. I heard one or two of them stifle a giggle, but I didn't hate them for it. If I were them, I'd laugh at me too.
…
I saw with despair, however, that there were just a few pence rolling around sadly inside. I began sweating even more, and wiped [s]sweat off[/s] my forehead, getting more frustrated by the second..
…
I turned bright red. It would be so humiliating to get thrown off in front of all these people. "Um... er... yes, just wait, please... just let me find it,” I stuttered. There were too many ellipses in her speech.

He gave a deep sigh. "Come on, miss. We don't have all day. Yes, er, you, young men, come on while the girl..." And the teenage boys I'd heard cussing came up alongside me and inserted change into the slot. The clinking sound of metal against metal unnerved me.

"Hurry up! If you don't have enough for your fare, you get off."

My eyes must have become quite red and wet because an old, silver-haired lady put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Stop hassling the girl, young people get so easily flustered! How much is it for a child's fare then, driver?"

And the kindly old lady paid for me, huffing and puffing a bit[s], with the occasional sigh[/s]. I never dared to look her in the eye. I was embarrassed for causing her trouble, and felt ?
…
"Oh?" said Mrs Brown. space here"And this friend must mind very much about how early you arrive. You were quite in a hurry, I gathered. Honestly! Young people. Pushing and shoving their whole childhood."

"Oh, that!" I turned red no comma once again. I blush so easily. I giggled nervously. "Um, yeah. My friend hates people being late. She, uh, appreciates punctuality." Oh sheesh. I wasn't getting myself out of this one very well.
…
"Um, I got a note, um, from my dad. It said to go to Sellyoak. Sellyoak Hospital. About half an hour to get there, right?"

Mrs Brown looked derisively at me. "Oh no, no! Honestly, don't you teenagers know anything about your surroundings?" She tutted. "Sellyoak’s is (at) the next stop. spaceThat's where I'm going."
…
Her face darkened and her brow furrowed; something within her seemed to blaze up defiantly. space "None of your business," she snapped, and we sat in uncomfortable silence. She stared out the window sulkily, which gave me a chance to observe her without being accused of staring.
She had a wrinkled little heart-shaped face, covered in moles. It looked quite worn and leathery, and seemed to tell a story. Her white hair, which was surprisingly thick and long for such an elderly lady, was pinned up carefully in two knots, on top of her shrunken, fragile-looking skull. Her eyebrows were drawn over in black eyeliner, and peachy-pink lipstick was fading into the cracks of her chapped lips. Her eyes were like dark slits, partially hidden by the folds of wrinkles hanging round their corners. My eyes drifted down to her hands, one on her silver-tipped walking cane, and the other on the handle of her oversized canvas trolley-bag. Her hands were stiff, calloused, and arthritic, laid delicately upon the trolley and cane as if they weren’t part of her body, but gloves she was carrying. When she talked, sometimes her hands would flutter tautly, like awkward birds. I agree with Demeter about this paragraph – it’s a little too long and could be spread throughout.

Despite the way time had chipped away at her though, it was obvious that she had once been very pretty. She had beautiful cheekbones; when she was not frowning they looked like tiny soft roses, petals full and open.

Odd description – I just can’t picture it. I think you’re trying to convey the colour of her cheeks, but because you’re talking about cheekbones, I’m trying to imagine them shaped like roses!

I would suggest that you cut out the last paragraph of the chapter. It’s a little superfluous and the previous paragraph makes for a stronger ending.

Overall

I like the introduction of Mrs Brown as a proper character in this chapter. However, as Demeter said, watch your description.

Another point I noticed, having read two chapters now, is that you have a tendency to use commas unnecessarily, most often in examples like this final quotation:

We rose to our feet, and walked down the aisle, crammed close to the backs of impatient passengers.

Both ‘rose to our feet’ and ‘walked down the aisle’ have the same subject (‘we’). There is no need to separate these two short clauses with a comma.

However, on a general note, this was well-written (I only changed a few sentences around for the flow) and you have a good vocabulary.