Blog 4: The world may be ending

Spring stood outside the office buildings on H. Street. She had walked there, since her car had died, this time probably for good. She paced back and forth in front of the steps. She still held the bit of newspaper with the ad on it that she’d ripped from the page.
Should she go in?
She placed one foot on the bottom step, hesitated, and turned around again. She nearly bumped into a man in a suit approaching the steps. She muttered an apology and continued pacing.
At the top of the steps, three signs were visible. Yates and Grayson Law on top, Office for Lease in the center, and finally Watson Fertility and Insemination. Springs gulped reading the last one.
Wiping her sweaty palms on the sweater dress she was still wearing, she made the decision. She marched back towards the stairs. But she barely had her left foot on the bottom step when she heard a voice.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” it squeaked.
Spring turned to view a short, squat woman in a long skirt, tacky Christmas sweater and elevator shoes. She also wore a small gold cross necklace.
Spring just looked her up and down for a moment, and then responded, “Yes?”
“Are you going into one of the offices ma’am?”
Spring looked around, secretly hoping someone else was around to interrupt the awkward moment.
“Um....yes?” Spring answered warily.
“Which office, ma’am?” the woman asked, jerking her head slightly at an angle, much like a bird.
Spring just stared, “Uhhhhh.”
“Is it the law office, ma’am?” the woman asked.
Spring was grateful for the suggestion. “Uh, yes. Yes, that’s it,” she said, taking another step up. But reaching for the railing, the paper ad slipped out of her hand and floated lazily down the steps.
“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ve got it for you.” The squat woman hobbled over to the bottom step.
“Oh, don-” was all Spring managed to get out. The woman had already picked up and started reading the paper ad. She glanced up at Spring, a dangerous look in her eyes.
“You’re going to the clinic,” the woman said.
Spring just gaped. “I...” she uttered.
The woman just smiled serenely and slowly tore the paper in half. “Do you know what they do at that clinic?” she asked.
Spring didn’t get a chance to respond.
“They perform abortions there,” the woman spat. “And artificial insemination.” She grimaced as she said the words as if they tasted bad on her tongue. “Tell me, ma’am. Are you a born again Christian?”
“Ex-excuse me?” Spring uttered.
“A Christian ma’am,” the woman repeated, presenting the cross she wore. “Are you a believer? Because God does not forgive those that commit such sins as this clinic.” She was beginning to grow red in the face from how fervently she was speaking. “Are you thinking about having an abortion?”
Spring said nothing, waiting for the woman to continue with her rant.
“Well, are you?” she asked again.
“No!” Spring finally exclaimed.
“Well the Lord and all the unborn angels thank you,” the woman sighed. “Are you thinking about artificial insemination?”
Spring didn’t answer. Again, she looked around, waiting for someone to rescue her or for some lie to make its way into her head. But the short moment of pause was enough of an affirmation for the woman.
“This is a sin!” the woman full-on shouted this time. “May the Lord save you! This world’s science cannot create pure life!”
The woman’s shouts had attracted the attention of two men accross the street carrying signs. They ran towards the scene, and Spring made out psalms and biblical passages printed on their posters.
“What is it, Janet,” one of them said.
“She!” the woman shouted, pointing at Spring and shielding her eyes as if the devil stood before her. Spring would have laughed at how dramatic it was had she not felt so humiliated. “She is going to destroy her own body, the work of God, with artificial seed! She is a sinner!”
The men turned toward Spring, anger growing in their eyes.
“Sinner!” they shouted. “You must pray! Pray for the Lord to save you from temptation!”
Their shouts became mangled and blended with one another. Spring’s eyes darted from angry face to angry face.
Then she ran. She nearly fell down the steps in her attempt to escape.
She ran as fast as she could ever remember running before. She ran until she could barely see through the tears pooling in her eyes. Then she collapsed on a bench, finally allowing her sobs to envelope her.

Blog 3: Casa D'Waffles

Spring woke to a loud tap next to her ear and the orange streaks of light filtering through the car window. She jumped and turned toward the sound. A police officer stood glaring from outside her car window. “What the...” Spring uttered. Then she remembered.

Her phone still lay next to her hand, and she thought of the night before. Closing her eyes and groaning, she recalled the car breaking down, Spencer shouting, the blind man’s strange words, storming out of her house, leaving the frantic voicemail message for Spencer, and falling asleep in her car.

What is wrong with me...she thought. It wasn’t really a question.
She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes rolled down the window. “Good morning, officer,” Spring said, attempting her usual cheery tone, but it wasn’t the same.
“Morning, ma’am,” he grunted. “You know you’re parked on the side of one of the busiest roads in town, right?”
Spring looked around. She was pulled over on Popular Avenue, where a line of bumper-to-bumper traffic curled around the block.
“Oh,” was all she managed to utter.
“Yeah. ‘Oh,’” the officer said. “Do you also know that it’s illegal in CityBlock to sleep in your car?”
“No, I’m sorry, officer,” Spring said.
He sighed in disapproval and produced a notepad from the pocket of his uniform. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to write you a ticket for this.”
Spring knew it would be a waste of time to argue. She didn’t really care, anyways. Just one more problem to deal with. She took her ticket and thanked the officer, simply out of the habit of being polite.
“You’re going to have to move you car, ma’am,” the officer added before walking away.
“I understand,” Spring said, to no one in particular. She watched the officer drive away into the traffic.
Spring sat for a moment, still waking up and simply not wanting to move. Eventually, she turned the keys in the ignition. The engine, once again, choked and died.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Spring shouted.

She never cursed, but it was becoming a bit of a habit lately.

She slammed her fist on the wheel and the horn sounded loudly. A passing driver sped up in fright.

Looking around, she notice the Casa D’Waffles at the end of the block. A large neon sign advertised “Free Waffle with a Cup of Coffee!”

“Fuck it,” Spring said. She got out of the car and trekked across the street, ignoring the honks of the cars stuck in the mess of traffic now extending even further down the street. She glanced down the road to see what was causing the back-up. A large bus was stalled halfway around the corner, and several flashing police cars scattered around it. A woman in a waitress uniform was being handcuffed and escorted into the back of one of the police cars.
Huh, Spring thought.
She entered the waffle place, sat, and ordered a coffee and free waffle. She stretched her neck with several cracks. The headrest in her car wasn’t exactly a pillow. She would go home later and take a nap. Home. She couldn’t go home, could she? She had stormed out of her house without a word to her sister. They didn’t even know where she was.
Spring dug in her purse for her phone. They had probably called her a million times, worried about her. She pressed a button on her phone to light up the screen.
0 missed calls.
Spring didn’t know what she was expecting, really. Her sister and brother-in-law had their own problems to deal with, namely Caleb. Plus, their work. Why would the preoccupy themselves with her whereabouts?
Shit, Spring thought. Work. It was almost 9 AM. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The waitress brought Spring her coffee, which tasted watered-down, and her waffle, which tasted stale. “Could I get a newspaper?” Spring asked.
The waitress nodded and retrieved one. Mostly just to pass the time, Spring flipped through the dull news and advertisements. But suddenly, an ad caught her eye. A smiling, blue-eyed baby looked up at her from the left page. Underneath, words read “Watson Fertility. For a free consultation, call 1-800-350-8888.”
Spring dialed the number into her phone.