That was I. That was me. That was the author of this post.

The school library had about thirty computers in total. In front of one of them, the corner near the entrance to be specific, sat Nancy Li. Nancy planned to finish her fourth writing assignment before the class ends, but fifteen minutes passed and nothing adequate came out of her limited imagination. Writing assignments like this one has always baffled Nancy. She glanced around aimlessly and found nothing intriguing. Then she closed her eyes and tried to focus on her task. She nibbled through the countless childhood memories that she could recall and was soon distracted by the sound caused by hundreds of fingers frantically poking the keyboards. The tapping sound reminded her of her mother’s presence. Her mother was an elegant woman who insisted on wearing high heels wherever she goes. Her heels would clank against the surface of the ground and always made the same pattering sound that Nancy was hearing. Nancy opened her eyes and saw her mother walking abruptly by her, heading to the door with the car key in her hand.

She was only four then. Little as she is, she did not forget what her mother promised her last week: “I will only take you to the art show next weekend if you go to the daycare today.” As much as Nancy loathed playing with kids that she didn’t know, she went, just for the sake of attending the art show so she can meet her favorite artist. There wasn’t anything wrong about what Nancy just saw, except the fact that Nancy wasn’t leaving with her mom. Nancy was still in her pajamas.

Clearly, her mother forgot about her and the art show; she had plans for the day already – SHOPPING! Poor little Nancy went back to her bed and started crying. She was left alone in a house that was surly too empty for a timid, four years old girl. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her vision blurred. The world seemed to be rotating around her, the dim ceiling lights twirled above her head. Her body started trembling, shaking harder as she breathed.

Her vision started to clear, the light went on spinning. She was ridding the Merry Go Round with her little cousin, Shirley. She didn’t want to go on a kid ride in front of others. For goodness sake, she’s eleven years old already. Her mother had forced her to ride to Marry Go Round with a little three years old! She argued, of course. Her mother won though. She cried in defense but her mother didn’t care. Tear didn't stop streaming down her cheeks, the golden lights didn’t stop gyrating…

Poo-Tee-Wee
Nancy