'I had only come to America to make a small fortune – Creative Writing\r'

' instantly was non a good sidereal day for me. Not many days are. It started aside a warm day. The sun was sheeny and throng where work all overting on with their bears, drive-bys, robbing banks and the customary nine to five jobs that where available. I dont harp in a particularly nice place, Harlem, except at the moment I could besides(prenominal) return to live there. I fliped turn out of my broken one bedroom, fix flat onto the passenger cary street and was on the way to the bus stop to get to work when two people came out of nowhere and attacked me. They stole my wallet and ran external.\r\n afterward virtually five minutes I limped up clear up the floor and go along my journey to work. After that it was a soft and painful walk and I eventually reached the bus stop. The bus arrived and I got on. I had to push my way to the tail and had to stand up at the rear of the bus because there wasnt a bighearted seat available. I glanced polish up at my w atch and realised that I was already five minutes late for work. I had to try so hard to find a job and I didnt unavoidableness to loose this one and go certify to living on the streets.\r\nMost people didnt trust to hire a dispirited person to even clean the dishes at a restaurant. There was always the cream of cleaning the streets but I had only come to America to make a small fortune then I would collect gone vertebral column home. plainly now I realise that life story doesnt always turn out as you expected to. I worked in a small cafi??. I didnt make some(prenominal) there but I could live aside it. I got off the bus in a rush and ran down the street as fast as my legs could carry me, ignoring the pain I was quiet down in.\r\nThe cafi?? I worked in was two blocks aside from the bus stop so I was still kinda far away from it. I at long last reached it. It was a small white building, which, was really in have of a clean and a cay job. I ran in the back introduct ion and started to get changed. My boss was standing at the door and he looked quite angry. I slowly walked up to him and apologised for being late. entirely I could calculate about was what he was going to say to me. He had been the only person to give me a bump to work.\r\nI tried to apologise to him but he just told me to get my compact and go home. I decided to walk back home. All I could think about was how back home in the morning you would wake up to the expert of the waves hitting the rocks and the smell of the salt from the sea. I thought about how friendly the people where there and missed the simplicity of life. I thought about the sun reach on the beach and listening to the sea slop around calmly over the gold and silver sand.\r\nHow at nighttime you can smell the fresh sea air intertwined with the smells of the foods that people had prepared prior for themselves , carried with the smell of the pure reefer that you got there, not the chemical stuff that you get i n Harlem , thats sold on the street corners by the dealers. Then I thought about my home there. I wasnt much but to me it was more than I have in Harlem. It was a little wooden hut. I continued to comfort myself as I solemnly walked back to my apartment. As I walked across a road a man stuck out his leg and tripped me over.\r\nI saw the man walk off and cars swerved around me trying not to fade me over. I quickly got up and started to feed home. I tried to avoid anyone I could view so that my journey back would be quicker. I knew that I was quite close to my apartment so I hurried even more. I finally arrived and as I walked up the steps people where staring at me. I got inside and felt so depressed. It was the theatrical role of feeling when your goalkeeper gets sent off in the 18th minute of the champions coalition final. Now all I want to do is go back to Jamaica and see my family but I cant afford it so all I have left is my memories of the past.\r\n'