A surprise meeting

She had woken up at 7.00 because she couldn't breathe. It was still semi-dark outside since grey cloud covered the sky. The sound of passing cars driving through the wet streets made her dread the day to come. She went back to sleep with a pillow over her face.

*

Her homework was done, everything clear. Even the weather outside was blue-skyed and sunny. Spring had indeed begun. She'd not be late today. The mp3 player's battery was dead so she just listened to the sounds of the street. All the people passing her seemed beautiful for some reason. She wondered whether this was a sign of subconscious racism but decided to bury that idea before she over-thought any further.

*

She'd been dreading this even since she handed in the essay. The things that was finished at 3.00 in the morning on the last night of the deadline. She knew it was bad but for some reason a person always expects or hopes that things will go better regardless of whether the work deserves it or not. It didn't. The text was full of question marks, underlined phrases, BUT's, mistake corrections and a general disapproving tone. The end wrote "Very good structuring" and the rest was crap. "6".

*

The weather was back to cloudy and cold. She tread homeward, tried to better her mood with shopping but there was nothing worth purchasing in the store. Off home repeating "6 out of 10, 6 out of 10" in her head. One less point and I would be average. Even though the essay was bad, she wasn't a 6 out of 10 kind of gal. Maybe it was OK for others, but not HER. She knew she didn't deserve any more. I suppose that's what was really bugging her.

*

Dragging her feet where the street was dry, stepping carefully where it was icy, she walked homeward, repeating that damn number in her head. Suddenly she noticed someone in front of her. A man all in black with gleaming brass buttons on his coat. A chimney sweeper. All her memories of school excursions, ready-made wishes, Mary Poppins and magical buttons came back to her. She looked at him with her big brown eyes and he said, "Hello!" A bit fluttered she greeted him back, all the while walking onward. She did not stop, as the girl in front of her had, to ask him whether she could touch his brass button for luck. Just seeing him had made her so happy that a Cheshire cat had leaped onto her face and refused to budge.

A chimney sweep! For some reason that was a magical profession. For a moment she thought of how difficult the life of the man behind the grimy suit must be and cursed her 21st century society where a chimney sweeper has so little work that they're rarer than a blue moon. She imagined that that dark suit and sooty brushes would make any generation feel the same way: like a child again, giddy and excited. She walked home and 6 out of 10 no longer mattered.