At the End of a Long Day

Describe the sights and sounds at the end of a long day.

"Ding Dong! Ding Dong!" The school clock called three times. "Yeah!" I shouted in my head. "Time to pack up!".

I straightened my stiff back and neck, the result of hours of hunching over textbooks and notes. Andrew had secretly thrown a paper plane at Jack avoiding teacher's detection; Mary and Lily were chatting animatedly, undoubtedly about gossip and rumors; William and James were rattling with Emma, the transfer student who came here for a week. With a grunt, I pushed my chair back, heaved myself up, started stuffing things into my huge schoolbag. I couldn't wait to go away from this whole noise-polluted room.

As I stepped out through the wooden doors of the air-conditioned classroom, a blast of hot, humid air slammed me flat on my face, stunning me for a few seconds. Before long, I make a beeline at the back of the people in bus stop. "Hey, Tom, have your brother got well from sickness?" I started chatting with Tom, my old friend, who was a primary five student. We meet each other every school day since we wait for the same bus.

Buses came and left. Every time it was the same anxiety creeping up to my head, craning to read the bus number above the heads of the crowd. Then, there was the rushing and jostling as I tried to force my body through the masses of boys and girls. I was ready to perish amidst the petrol fumes and the stink of stale sweat when I finally managed to squeeze my right foot onto a bus. Then, up I went, forced by the pushing crowd into the packed bus. The bus disgorged some people but swallowed more. I grabbed hold of a strap and tried to stand firmly. Every time the bus lurched forward, we would all sway backwards. The bus hurtled on, careening madly round corners, only to stop with a sudden jolt. I was crushed on all sides, and had my toes trod on several times.

Then, we got caught in a massive traffic jam. Cars, buses and minibuses around us kept up a constant honking. The burning rays of the sun stoked up the oven which our bus had now become. I became nauseous and thought many times about getting off. Yet, I was too tired to walk home. Inch by inch we moved, and one hour later, I finally arrived at my stop, which, thankfully, was just in front of my flat. I shoved my way out, my strict upbringing forcing me to mutter a few insincere "Excuse-me".

I dragged my body into the lift and pressed the button which marked with number 18. Finally, I reached my door and, after a little fumbling for my keys, I entered my apartment.

With a sigh of utmost relief, I dropped my heavy schoolbag on the floor. "Hi, mom. I am back." I greet my mother with exhausting voice. Smiling, my sweet mother welcomed me with a piece of homemade cake and a cup of warm milk. The tea with lovely music is a healing for my fatigue and so is my worn-out soul!