Bam! The pot of water had just fallen off the stove and crashed onto the floor.

“Sorry! I’m alright!” I yelled. 

My sister and I were in charge of dinner tonight and we only had 6 hours left to pull it together. 6 hours was way too much time and I knew it. However I also felt like we would surely mess something up, so I gave plenty of time to create a beautiful meal. We planned on cooking an intricate sauce to lay on top of homemade pasta.

    My family lived on a tiny hill in a small but spread-out town. Our house was barely two stories with three crampet bedrooms. My sister, Aletheia, and I had small conjoint rooms on the second floor. Our father John, was in a slightly larger room on the first floor to the left of the kitchen. The small space didn't bother us. The house is covered in yellowish wallpaper with paintings and articles hung everywhere. 

    Dinner was struggling to come together. Aletheia had forgotten flour, the most important ingredient to make pasta. However, to match the sauce they needed a very specific type of flour. So I dashed out of the house with my jacket half and my face partially open from running out mid-sentence. I ran down the hill to the train stop. I swiped my card and hoped on. The grocery store that supplied the flour was an hour away by train. I reached around in my pocket and found my notebook. I flipped it up and started writing. I wrote till my hands were tired and I fell asleep. The conductor called my stop, waited, and then continued on with the journey. I had accidentally slept for five hours. I would never make it home for dinner. The train stopped at Paris. 

Paris. How did I get here? I sighed under my breath. I got off the train in hopes of finding my way back home. I was in the city of love all alone without money or clothes. I stepped out of the train station hut and felt my mind wiping from amazement. The bright lights, the breeze, the people walking around small shops with their bags, the rickshaws everywhere, and the smells. The smells. The smells of fresh-made croissants, macrons, chocolate, and so much more. My nose was in heaven and my brain just went white and relit with excitement and fascination. But I didn't fit in. I was dressed like a dirty peasant and had nothing to show my worth. The one thing I was good at was investigating and writing stories. I had written stories of brackens, heists, tea parties, and more. 

“Hey watch out kid!” Someone screamed as they whipped past me. I realized I was in the middle of the street. I quickly crossed to the other side and pulled out my notebook and I wrote. Everything I heard, smelled, felt, all of it. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. Then I got up and walked around. I needed a place to crash. I was tired and it was dark. I found an ally with a mattress sticking out of a dumpster. It looked like it had just been placed there so I pulled it out and laid it down. I opened a trash bag next to it and to my luck, they were sheets. Looked like they were meant to be donated but got put in the trash. The sheets were neatly folded and everything. Out of excitement I ripped open the bag and set up my bed. I couldn't have dreamed of a better situation. Everything was going to be ok. 

The next day, I woke up feeling wetter than wet. My shoes sloshed when I moved and my dress was stuck to me. I opened my eyes and it had rained. It looked like a terrible rainstorm had hit. I couldn't present myself to anyone like this. I found a public restroom and rushed in. I took off my dress and dried it under the hand dryer. It wasn't fully dried but it was good enough.. I brushed back my hair with my fingers and hoped it would be enough. I went back outside and ripped a small piece of the sheets and tied it up in my hair. It was secure. I went into a small coffee shop and observed the life of the people of Paris. Eventually, I got kicked out after not ordering anything. I went back to my makeshift bed and draped the sheets over old chairs and stood the mattress up. I didn't know how long I would be there and I didn't want to be any more uncomfortable than I already was 

I had collected so many stories that I felt it was time to write an article. So I created an article about what the people of Paris do in their free time. It was a wonderful article. After walking around for days, I had found a newspaper company. I walked in and started to bargain for my article. They took it and I was astonished. It was rare that any newspaper company would take a stranger's walk-in story. I continued to write stories and sold them for small amounts of money. I used this money for food and more notebooks, Even though the notebooks were expensive.

I continued the cycle. Writing, selling my story, buying more paper, food, and sometimes clothes, repeating it until I was 16. Once I turned 16 the newspaper company decided to hire me legally. My work cycle was similar, except I would try my stories on a brand new top-of-the-line typewriter rather than my notebooks. I was also paid more. I could now afford food that was fresh and I could have all three meals. I stayed with the newspaper company for two more years and then trudged on to find something else to try. I submitted one of my popular articles to a writing competition and won third place. I still didn't have quite enough money to make my way home. I was living in a kind old lady’s decaying shed and it was time to move out. I didn't want to bother her anymore. I made my way to the center of Paris where I found another publisher. I submitted my articles and asked for the job. They denied me. I asked again, they denied me. I was about to give up when I submitted my application one more time. They approved my application. I joined the company and rented out a small, shared, one bathroom apartment. I worked at the company for 4 years and built my way up to the top. I had made more money than I ever could have dreamed of. However, it wasn’t a lot because I didn't know what money was like. I was happy without it and didn't find it to be a necessity. Even though it was.

I was now able to get back home. Soon after I left, they implemented a pay rule and ticket fee for the train. I didn't have the money for that so I was trapped. This time, I went to the booth at the front and bought my ticket. I was going home after nine years. I was on the train and felt as if time had stopped. The ride took forever and this time I couldn’t miss my stop.

I walked off the train station and everything was different. The houses were closer together and now there were more of them. Everyone had power running through their house. The school was much bigger than just a few classrooms. I walked to where my home used to be hoping it was still there. It was. Built-up excitement hit me. Then so did disappointment, I had left my family for nine years without any contact. I went out for flour and never came back. They must despise me. I knocked on the door and heard a scream. The door flew open and there was Aletheia. She gave me a monstrous hug. Then she slapped me across the face.

“How could you leave us?” she yelled. “We thought you were dead. But we missed you so much, oh! Please come inside! Your room is a little different but there is still room.” She then ran to get my father. I looked around my house and realized how much I missed and longed for it. My father came in and I started talking. I told them everything. From the amazing smells, sleeping outside, how I made a successful writing career for myself, learned how to observe people, and how I filled one-hundred and three notebooks. They were amazed. I was so happy to be back in my own house. I went upstairs and saw that my room had completely changed. Aletheia had mentioned it was similar, but it wasn't. It was filled with unneeded objects and it was used as storage space. I moved the desks and chairs out of the way until I could reach my bed. I had the best sleep I had ever had. I learned about all the new parts of town and how they would continue to expand. I caught up with my sister about what she had been doing. I apologize thousands of times for not coming home sooner. I explained that I didn't have enough money to get home but all I wanted was to be here. Everyone forgave me but I still felt horrible about it. A few days later we were working on dinner together. I noticed we were out of flour and needed it.

“I'm going to go get flour!” I yelled. I then realized that those weren't the right words. “I'm going to go get flour. I will be back in a few minutes. Should I go to the market? I hear they have expanded and have the right brand.” I got told yes and went out to the market. I brought my notebook with me. Just in case.