"Good afternoon, miss. How can I help you?" Bailey greeted Joan ,who just stepped into the mail station.
"Good afternoon, sir. I just came to check my mailbox, " Joan replied, showing her key.
"Oh, go ahead. I remember you did get a reply a couple of days ago " Said Bailey after noticing her key number.
Hearing this, Joan headed to her mailbox with a flicker of hope . Although she wants to get a quick profit from writing, she will not be disappointed if she didn't get it the first time. She has already written a few other Articles to try out her luck, eventually at least one of them has to hit.
Joan saw one letter after she opened her box. She opened it instantly facing the lockers, six dollars slipped from the envelope.
Miss Joan blackwood
We are pleased to inform you that your submitted article has been accepted for publication in our upcoming issue.
Your observations and manner of writing were found both thoughtful and suitable for our readers.
Enclosed is the agreed payment for your contribution. We would be pleased to consider any future submissions should you wish to write for us again.
Respectfully,
Margaret Whitmore
Assistant Editor
The Metropolitan Ladies' Journal
Joan finally felt better with money in her hand. Even if it was a small amount, it still made her feel safer. Joan is new to this world and until now most of her things are not from this time including her clothes, shoes and other necessities. Of course she is not complaining, as they are of better quality, without a price and evidence of a past life. After all, how could anyone feel secure without money in their pocket?
Joan took her money, mailed her new articles to the same newspaper and another woman's magazine before leaving.
The streets of Manhattan still carried traces of the New Year.
Melted snow and rainwater darkened the pavements, while cold wind slipped between rows of buildings and horse carriages alike.
Even on a Sunday afternoon, the city refused to rest completely.
Joan took her time strolling through the streets taking in the cold air slowly. Although as a nurse she is already used to the hospital smell, and the stuffy dormitory did little to help. As Joan walked she witnessed the city liveliness , people moving quickly, nearly everyone with somewhere to be. Men buying newspapers , folding them under their arms, women selling homemade food and clothes, and children selling newspapers or cleaning shoes. Everyone seemed to be striving for a better life .
She bought a newspaper from a passing teenager before heading to a nearby cafe .
"a slice of cheesecake and coffee with milk, if available "
Crowds Return to Broadway After New Year Celebrations
Brooklyn Bridge Traffic Increases After Holiday Week
New Apartment Building Planned Near Upper Manhattan
Police Investigate Late-Night Fire in Lower East Side
Charity Kitchen Feeds Hundreds During Cold Weekend
Local Teacher Announces engagement to Factory Manager's Son
Advertisement:
Typing Lessons for Young Women
Wanted: Reliable Nurse Assistant
Weather Forecast:
Cold winds expected by evening with light rain across Manhattan.
Different lives, different worries, all printed onto the same paper.
Joan read them one by one, integrating slowly into their daily life. As the hospital is a similar frame for her.
As flipping the paper,she started smelling smoke. Joan raised her gaze from the newspaper to see a man sitting a few tables away, reading a book with a cigar between his fingers. She has to admit ,he was charming with a classic suit and polished shoes.
After a glance for a few seconds she returned to her newspaper .
Finishing her coffee, Joan stood up after paying the bill, grabbed her coat and headed out. The warmth of the café faded the moment Joan stepped outside.
Joan adjusted her coat and continued down the street until the familiar building came into view.
The stone lions stood silently before the grand entrance of the New York Public Library.
Even after seeing it once before, the place still felt imposing.
Inside, warmth and quiet welcomed her almost instantly. The noise of the city dulled behind thick walls as she approached the desk and returned the borrowed novel carefully.
"The Lost World, returned in good condition," the clerk remarked after a brief glance.
Joan gave a small nod before wandering deeper between the shelves. She paused now and then, fingers brushing along rows of bindings. History. Medicine. Fiction. Poetry.Eventually, she selected two books.
The first was a nursing reference discussing patient observation and ward management. The second was a collection of short travel writings from Europe, chosen more out of curiosity than intention.
Finding a seat near one of the tall windows, Joan settled quietly into the chair.
Outside, winter light filtered through the glass in pale shades of gray.
Time passed without her noticing.
Pages turned slowly beneath her fingers while the occasional footsteps of librarians and distant murmurs drifted through the hall. A gentleman nearby coughed into a handkerchief before returning to his newspaper. Somewhere farther back, a chair scraped softly against the wooden floor.
For the first time in days, nothing demanded her immediate attention.
No hurried footsteps.
No medicine trays.
No patients calling weakly for assistance.
After nearly two hours, Joan finally closed the nursing book and glanced toward the dimming light outside.
It was getting late.
She stopped by several small shops on her way back toward the hospital district.
Tea leaves.
Soap.
Writing paper.
A small loaf of bread for the week ahead.
The grocer wrapped the items neatly in brown paper before handing them over.
By the time the hospital building appeared again in the distance, evening had already settled over Manhattan.
Warm yellow light glowed behind the dormitory windows.
Joan adjusted the weight of the parcels in her arms and stepped inside, bringing the cold air of the city back with her for only a moment before the door shut behind her.
What do you think the future holds for Joan after getting her first income?
Share your thoughts in the comments