Single
by Finlay John of Wyedean School. This was one of two shortlisted stories in our schools’ competition, July 2020.
It was another day walking down the road for Mitsuki. The wind softly brushed her hair as she walked home alone. She was independent and self-reliant. Her eyes invited friendships, but she never allowed them.
In her house, a group of people were making themselves at home. They were people she’d seen around the town: a short blonde woman was nestled on the sofa watching the television, a tall elderly man was drinking tea out of Mitsuki’s favourite mug, and a plain looking young man around her own age was writing on his laptop. She shooed them out of the house, only to turn around to find new people had come in. She chased these out, too, but more came, again and again. Eventually the blonde woman, the elderly man, and the young writer returned, and she gave up.
She went to her room, changed into a comfortable dress, and lay on her bed silently crying. Eventually she sat and brushed the amber tendrils of her long hair and forced herself to smile. Mitsuki had accepted the status quo
When she returned downstairs, the people acknowledged her properly, apologizing for the abrupt appearance they made. They introduced themselves. The plain young man and the elderly man had seen their own loneliness reflected in Mitsuki. The blonde woman explained she was just a passer by and came in to see what was happening. She had thought it might be an open party.
Mitsuki thanked them for explaining themselves, and they became friends. She realised she needed friends now, and she branched out and went out into the world and made other friends. As soon as new friends came her old friends seemed to disappear from the world. She felt as though she betrayed those old three. Mitsuki lay on her bed again, wondering what she had done wrong. In anger, she threw her new friends out of the house, and then realised she had no friends at all.
Walking around her house she still felt the presence of her old friends, as if they were with her in a different way. When she woke the next day, they were all back. This time she tried to pick new friends to introduce to her old ones, but as soon as she made new friends, the old ones left again.
Confused and afraid, she wrote the word “Single” across her wardrobe. She felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder.
The elderly man’s voice whispered softly in her ear, ‘You fixed our mistake.”
Somehow she knew what it meant, and knew that she would always be a single, but she would never be alone.