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On a rainy day in Spalding and another early sunset. Andrew walked to his downtown studio apartment with a paper bag full of food. He had obtained authorisation from the government to remain in the apartment in Upbeat, concentrating his attention on improved Lincolnshire drug-affected districts. It was a supplementary artist program, and Andrew was a published Haiku poet, a haiku teacher and often college teachers. To receive the subsidy, he had to attend an audition for artistic accomplishments. While it was a miracle to live in central Seattle for £800 a month, junkies visited his haiku weekly and accompanied Patrick's minimalist art.
Like a true Spalding, he had no shield today but only a polyester jacket to wade away from the rain. He grabbed his paper food bag with remorse that he was so eco-friendly as his foodstuffs slipped away from him and were slowly soaking. He saw a young woman shivering in the distance near the courthouse of Lincolnshire. She sat on the grass in the courtyard, staring at each other with a hoodie. On her left was a carton that read, "Anything's going to help." Thoughts started to pass the mind of Andrew. Where will she sleep? Will, she not get hypothermia? Is she sick or just sad because she doesn't even keep her sign? But when he came a few feet from her, he slowed down his emotions, and he just felt like he wanted to help her somehow.
He expected her to reply, but she didn't raise her head.
"Is it all okay with you?"
The sound of the cars rushing by was Andrew's attempt to raise his voice above the rain.
His head slightly hovered, and his eyes met him.
"Do you need some food? There is pizza we can use."
Without sounding desperate or anxious, Andrew tried to be as personal.
She pulled back her cap, revealing black hair, straight, short.
With their eyes fixed on each other, there were several moments of silence.
The girl said in a ruffled voice, “I guess we can get some pizza.”
A couple of blocks away, Andrew knew a spot.
"Okay, let's go to Pizzeria Fired Tredici Wood."
The two went, and the night was mirrored in all the puddles without exchanging sentences.
As the girl's hands squeezed when they reached the shiny, colourful walls, lined with movie posters and the scent of cheese and baked bread.
"How do you like pizza?"
"Chicken," said the girl in her eyes with a shade of remorse.
Andrew waved to the counter. "Please have three slices of Parmesan chicken pizza."
She looked carefully at Andrew's eyes at a table before him after consuming the pizza reluctantly.
“My name is Fatima.”
"It's a lovely name."
After that, Andrew didn't know what to say, scared to sound awkward or worse.
They began to go back to court, and Fatima wanted to talk a little bit more.
"In a car accident I lost my parents. I didn't believe it would happen because my dad was a taxi driver, and Spalding was such a safe town. But a drunk man passed the red light...."
Again, she put her cap on.
"I'm so sorry..." he didn't know what to say any more.
Fatima sat down in her place before approaching the courthouse.
"I have got an over there sleeping bag." She pointed to a bunch of trees. "I still go to sleep in the homeless shelter, but it's packed today. " But I get meals there at least."
But Andrew wasn't sure about it, and she wouldn't be happy with it either. Since he saw her eat pizza and enjoyment, he had been thinking of it.
But he got it out after moments of awful silence. "Fatima, what do you think about this? I don't know, but... would you like my apartment to stay, um?" "
Her face seemed like a shock, then confusion, then culpability, then an inexplicable thing.
He tried to decipher her phrases and tried to convince her, "I wll give you room even though I have a studio apartment. Whenever you want, you can leave and come. I just want you to stay somewhere."
As she looked down at the herb, a smirk started spreading on her lips.
There were winding and mechanical sounds below the elevator to his studio apartment with steel cables. Fatima leaned against the opposite end of the lift where Andrew stood, looking straight as if she was about to leave the lift when she opened because of the awkwardness.
No bag to sleep. A plastic sack: toothbrush, comb, three clothes pairs and a wallet.
Days later, Andrew didn't know what he had about the feelings. He felt drawn to it, but he figured he knew the right thing about the situation, on the other hand. He passed his inner turmoil after a few moments of throwing thoughts and emotions.
"I understand your feelings, Fatima, but I have talked about you with my mother in those past Only a few days, it'd be lovely..."
"Would it be nice to quit for me?" The feeling, which stresses his speech, interrupted Fatima.
"No, no, Fatima," his arm waved to demonstrate his sincerity, although his voice remained dark. Fatima seemed to be settling a little.
"My mother and I talked about your family membership."
In her side, Fatima laid her eyes and started to sling.
"I figured it'd be better, because you could have a family, and..."
Her sunset was louder. He was trying to put his hand on her back and to comfort her. "You never know how long we will stay together in a romantic relationship, too. Our friendship would be for life if you're my sister."
She asked, staring into her eyes. "Your sister?"
She said in a severe tone: "Your sister. She looked down on the floor and hugged Andrew, and all over her dress, she got butter and maple jar.
The motivation I had inspired me to develop and critically talk about our everyday social lives or how different people face life outside there. I decided to write this way to respond effectively to environmental, social and economic challenges that people face today. However, I also wrote like that to educate the reader on how to build up relationships and, one should be kind to every person they see and meet. Before I did this piece, I had to research, read and understand other author's creativities and genre's. Also, I decided to draw inspirations from different kind of pieces of the world that I already knew. Most importantly, I managed to draw a map of how my storyline would be beginning and till the end. Finally, I decided to draw the thematic elements of my story and captivate a reader’s attention.
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