I swung my backpack over my left shoulder and went up to the glass window. My voice clenched up, but I approached the counter anyway. “Can I have round trip tickets to ththth...thirtieth street station?” The station clerk nodded before I finished and handed me tickets to center-city Philadelphia. I left the ticket office and motioned to a station clerk. “Which track is fff...Philly?” The clerk leaned closer and replied, “Track 2.” I felt disappointed inside that I stuttered for something so simple.
The English novelist George Meredith acclaimed in one of his books, “I hate slow motion after being in the railway.” Stuttering is my slow motion; it is my past. The train is a symbol of my maturity. …show more content…
“The next train to stop on track 1 is the 7:45 Eastbound train to Penn Station New York.” I stepped on to the train. When I sat down I was bored so I started playing a game of scroll shooter. “Tickets please,” said the conductor. He looked at my phone and sighed so I put it away and didn’t play again. “Where are you going, sir?” “New York,” I said boldly, not even looking at him. My inner child came out at that moment. As children we don’t filter out speech for authority, however, this was pivotal for my stuttering. The feeling of carelessness would normally be considered immature, but carelessness to me is speaking my