Morgan Kirby Narrative

        

Morgan Kirby

Honors English 11

              It was a dreary Monday morning as Mrs. Johnson rode the trolley to work. The weekends seemed to get shorter and shorter and she wasn’t ready to go back to work.  She saw some of the usual commuters on the trolley with her. Mr. Walker, who worked at the factory two blocks from her building; Mrs. Jackson, who was a housekeeper for a wealthy family on 34th Street; Mr. Smith, who runs the deli on the corner of 42nd and Vine.  Today, there was someone new on the ride, there was a woman with two children, a boy and an infant daughter. “I wonder who that is? I’ve never seen them on this trolley,” she thought to herself. “Have they just moved here? Are they just visiting?”  She thought about talking to them, but didn’t really have the energy to do so.  She was still trying to get herself in the right mindset for work.  All of a sudden, the infant girl started crying.  “What’s wrong with that child?  Do something to keep her quiet!”, Mrs. Johnson said in her head. The woman tried to calm down the infant, but she kept crying and crying, getting louder and louder. Mrs. Johnson grimaced as the baby’s crying gave her the feeling of someone dragging fingernails down a chalkboard. “How much longer is that child going to cry? Why won’t the mother do something? What is wrong with these people?” Finally, Mrs. Johnson got her relief. The trolley had reached her stop and she could get away from that awful noise. Mrs. Johnson quickly exited the trolley and walked a couple of blocks to work. She was actually looking forward to work as long as she didn’t have to hear that crying baby.