It started with a word. One irrelevant and meaningless word that turned into half a decade of ups and downs and everything in between.
Expectations.
It took one word to escape the madness of adolescence and enter the chaos of the world. With that word, a life changed. Maybe more- definitely more.
It was part of a sentence, the word. And maybe that was the starter. "You have completely lived up to my expectations." But the breaking point was that one, simple word.
And so began, truly, the life of Abigail Smith.
It was a Tuesday, a week or so after high school graduation. She was 17 and ambitious, as they all were at that age. And when she woke up, she had no idea what the day had in store for her. She certainly didn't think it would be anything out of the ordinary.
So, in that way, she took a shower and brushed her teeth, picked out a summer dress, ate an apple, and left for her job at the local grocery store. With the same attitude as ever, she dealt with the express lane with as much enthusiasm as she could muster amongst the carts of screaming kids and tired mothers. Occasionally there would be a man who would walk through, a case of beer in one hand and a carton of cigarettes in the other. She would smile and bag his things and try not to notice the sneaky glances down her top.
When three came, she grabbed her paycheck and left, glad to feel the warm sun. It mingled with the soft breeze to whisper in her ear and caress her bare skin as she walked home.
As always, she stopped at the end of her driveway and grabbed the mail, waving to the neighbors as she did. They were bickering about spoiled milk, but stopped to look over and wave to the girl underneath the shade of an oak tree, walking up to her house.
When she got inside, she threw the letters on the counter and began to walk away, but soon stopped and backed up. Maybe it was purely just a feeling that something was off, or she just felt like looking at the mail today instead of leaving it for her mother. Possibly, it even felt wrong. Too heavy to be the normal bills and advertisements of a normal Tuesday in June. Whatever the reason was, she grabbed the pile and looked through it.
There, a few letters in, was an envelope addressed to herself. The paper that the envelope was made out of was thick, and she gave herself a deep paper cut as she tore it open. However, the paper inside was light and wispy, much like the breeze just outside the window.
It was from her English teacher, a middle aged man who she believed spent too much time researching Hemingway because he was always depressed. This is what it said up to the point that she stopped reading:
Abigail,
Having you in my class was a pleasure, as I'm sure you've heard from multiple teachers already. From day one, I knew you. I knew your character and that you were going to be my favorite student so far. Everything you did, you put one-hundred percent into, which is a remarkable and highly impressive trait to possess. And at graduation, as you gave your speech as valedictorian, I was blown away. You have completely lived up to my expectations. Which, by the way, is a very difficult thing to do and...
The letter laid on her bed for three hours afterwards. She read and reread the same part over and over, never seeming to be able to get past it. And when her mother came home around seven at night, she found her daughter packing.
That was the night Abigail left her home for the first time without knowing when or if she'd ever return.
I like the atmosphere you've created. I can feel the summer day and it was brought about by a touch of nostalgia--that's a good talent you've got right there. You're adept in your grammar and punctuation (something far too looked over nowadays), and I like the storytelling you've gone and done.
I understand the importance you want to stress about the word 'expectations,' but it is much too drawn out in the beginning. I found myself skipping over the first few sentences just to get to the heart of the matter. Your story starts with the sentence, "And so began, truly, the life of Abigail Smith." You could get a lot more across with the first sentence, mentioning the word itself, and then the sentence I just mentioned. Sometimes, when you want to stress something, making it as simple as possible is the best way to do it.
Also, perhaps the shortness of this story is perfectly intended, but I find myself much more confused than anything else. If you want to lead the reader confused, I'd like to tell you that it's not the sort of confusion that drives me to want to continue reading. It's the sort of confusion where I'm pretty sure I've missed something in the prior paragraph, and upon going back and reading it realized I haven't--there's something just missing from the story itself.
I think perhaps a little more insight into the girl herself, her thoughts, her feelings. There is nothing in the above that would suggest that she would ever leave--and if she *would* never leave and this is new, it comes about far too abruptly. There is only a brief description of her re-reading the line in the letter before up and leaving entirely. It feels completely out of place.
That being said, the story can lead to interesting things. Every story has that potential. I think it's a good first draft, but I sincerely hope that when you've got the storyline down you can come back and edit this little prelude.
i think this story could go a long way keep it up