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Waiting for Superman (Because Surely This Isn't Him)
Ainsley Carter woke up at 7:00am as she usually does. Her husband is already gone; off to that place he calls work. Ainsley lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. He has work while she has nothing else to do for the rest of the day. She could clean, but she did that yesterday. She could cook, but really she didn’t have to do that until 5:00pm.
She’d complained about this to her husband many times, but he would tell her the same thing while he drank a glass of vodka, a glass of vodka that Ainsley had to pour for him. “It’s not my fault you don’t want to get knocked up. You’d have plenty to do with a kid running around.”
Ainsley always dismissed the comment, leaving the room without a word. She should’ve known better than to go to that man for help. She wasn’t the love of his life to him, she was an object. Some play thing that he could parade around in front of his friends. She never said anything about it though. He’d be a pig head about the subject anyway.
Ainsley finally sat up in bed and stared at the peachy pink colored walls of her bedroom. She had to get out of here. She had to leave. She had so much more to offer and she knew it. Someone else had to notice it too, right?
Standing up, Ainsley went to take a shower and get dressed. After getting into a plaid skirted green dress, she started to pack her things into a suit case. She didn’t really ‘own’ much in the house so packing only took about 20 minutes.
She stood in her pastel living room with her luggage in her hand. She could leave. She didn’t have a car, but the bus stop was close. She had money for it.
It was decided.
She was out of here.
Ainsley walked out the front door, not even leaving a note for him. He’d have to pour a glass of his own vodka now.
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I originally had to write this for a project in English with feminism being my subject. I thought it was good though so here you go.