Mirie's Essay: It Isn T Fair?
“Why is it like this?”Mirie muttered looking at her lap.
She sighed as she looked out the window of the bus as it turned toward her neighborhood. Grey clouds obscured the sun. All the houses were the same dingy, decaying brown color. Some had broken shutters and doors barely hanging on their hinges. Her house was in fact similar.
Her bus came rumbling to a halt. Mirie sighed again as she stood up to get off the bus.
As she went down the steps, the driver called out,” Happy Holidays!”
Mirie smiled, replying just before the door closed, ”You too.”
Mirie walked towards her home slowly contemplating what exactly she could do in her situation. She had to get a christmas gift for Stan but she didn’t have the money to do so. She …show more content…
She surveyed her surroundings. A TV that was obviously long since out of date was sitting on a coffee table in the corner. A stained carpet lay under her feet and beneath that old hardwood floors that once shone in the light. There was a cracked window in the corner. It was a small little place but it was theirs. A beautiful painting hung against the wall, looking otherworldly compared to the cracked wall it hung on. It was the last one of her paintings that they still kept. There were only two things that Mirie and Stan had that they prized. One of those things was her painting that hung on the wall, a painting of where they had first met, a park in the city. The other was Stan’s car that he had inherited from his father.
It was a park like no other, a magical place. When you stepped in it, it felt like you had stepped into another world entirely. It was a place that always held that sharp, fresh smell of nature. The gentle whispers of the leaves rustling in the breeze could be heard even under the scorching July sun. The pathways are lined with lovely dancing Woodland …show more content…
He used to drive around in it all the time, priding in the fact that he still had it. However, seven months ago, his car broke down. She recalled that day very well.
It had been a Tuesday in September and Mirie had gone out for lunch with Stan. On their way back the car suddenly spluttered, groaned and after a few minutes came to a complete halt. They had to get it towed and took it to a auto shop. They were told that the engine died. A new one would cost at least two thousand dollars. Stan had been a little down after that.
She needed to cheer him up. She stared at the painting trying to figure where to get the money when suddenly the idea hit her. She could sell her painting. It was gorgeous and extremely valuable, and it definitely could be sold for quite a price. Thus she picked up the painting and headed out the door stopping at the nearest gallery. It was place she knew could get her a good, quick buck for it.
She entered as a tall man stood there looking like a broker for an arms deal. She set the painting on the counter and asked the man, “Do you buy single works?”
“Of course we do.” was his