[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LjlmZTRlZi5WMkZzZEdWeUlFUmhkM052YmcsLC4w/kobryan.regular.png[/img][/center][indent][sub][sub][hr][/sub][/sub][color=#9fe4ef][sub][color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][B][i]LOCATION:[/i][/B] [COLOR=gray][I]Towards the Library[/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b][i]DATE:[/i][/b] [COLOR=gray][I]28/05/20[/I][/COLOR][color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][/right][/SUP][/color][sub][hr][/sub][indent][indent][color=dcdcdc]It had been a week.

A week of no buses. A week of staring down the street, hoping that they'd all appear at once. Sometimes, he'd walk out to the edge of town, standing at the end of Prescott Mill Bridge. It's not like he'd be able to walk all the way to some place with a job without passing out; he was far too scrawny and unathletic, it was just some kind of raw curiosity—like suddenly finding interest in things that were once mundane, such as a bridge. He figured it was just the after effects of being released from quarantine's clutches.

Shaking hair out of his face, Walter tried to focus on his phone, instead of the neglected paper coffee cup beside him. Google search results crawled in on the three-bar public WiFi as he looked up bus timetables for the second time that day. All of them listed nearby cities, going backwards and forwards on a regular basis, but he couldn't find a single result for Everbrook. He tried looking up bus services on Everbrook's news website, thinking maybe they were struggling to get things running again after lockdown. Nothing. (He quickly scrolled past an article reflecting on events a decade ago.)

A notification flashed up on the screen: a text, from Mom.

[indent][color=gray][i]When will you be done? I'm cooking some pasta[/i][/color][/indent]
He mulled over his response for a second.

[indent][color=FAFAFA][i]just make some for urself, i might be a lil while. still no buses[/i][/color]

[color=gray][i]Youve left it too long, you should have stopped looking at the buses 4 days ago[/i][/color]

[color=FAFAFA][i]well ima keep looking. i'll text u when i'm on my way back[/i][/color]

[color=gray][i]Fine. Turn your buzzer on[/i][/color][/indent]
Though he wouldn't admit it to her, his mom was right about having left things too long. It was time to move on and start looking for jobs around the town instead, despite his past struggles, so Walter bitterly gulped down the remains of his now-cold coffee and made his way onwards. It would be no good poking around the center of town, since he'd used up all his goodwill with the employers there in summers gone by. Any jobs he hadn't tried to bag were boring and menial and would fail to capture his attention for more than a minute.

There [i]was[/i] a noticeboard up at the library that people just about cared enough to update. If he was lucky, he'd find a job listing that wasn't too far of a walk on the other side of town. If not, he could maybe ask around the library, see if they had any jobs going. Even a volunteer position, just to stick some experience on his resumé. Besides, it wasn't like he had much else to do. There was nothing at home to entertain him, and travel was out of the question. He'd considered texting a few friends to meet up, but they'd all be out of town and relishing the freedom.

With all things considered, he began a stroll to the library, slipping in his dollar store earbuds to pre-occupy himself with his downloaded Bowie albums.[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]