justprompts - Stranger in a strange land
Martha Kent had a feeling she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
She preferred to walk to work whenever she had the time, footsteps along unfamiliar streets, gaze falling upon white, majestic structures that seemed out of place given the youth of her country. There were no green pastures, no open fields, nothing natural or…normal to her. Very impersonal.
Though she enjoyed going to work day after day - getting lost in the easy chaos of the political arena, lobbying for a vote, writing speeches, addressing her constituency, meeting with various NPO representatives, trying so desperately to do the right thing - the true nature of the job she was doing scared her. So much of her life had been spent helping those close to her, giving everything within her to ensure their happiness, and now more often than not she felt she was being spread too thin, trying to do the same thing for millions of people rather than simply her tight knit circle back in Smallville. It was exhausting.
She spent more time at work than the average Senator on the Hill. Most of her colleagues left the office around five, preferring to let their staff stay until all hours of the night doing their dirty work. But Martha Kent was always the last one to leave her own office. She insisted that this was purely selfless, part of the hard-working, efficient personality her father had bestowed upon her. The truth was, it was about as selfish as she got. When she was at the office, she didn’t need to worry about her own life. She didn’t need to think about the husband she had lost, the son she would always feel guilty about leaving, the farm she’d promised to manage. At work, she could be a Senator, not a lonely widow, a negligent mother, or a source of broken promises.
Martha hated her apartment. Nestled deep within the classy structures of Dupont Circle, she always longed to be someplace else. Apartments were cold and quiet, no life bursting within. There, she was alone. She had a couch, where she sat and watched the news, often eating - gasp! - frozen dinners. Occasionally she would read. The latest Tom Clancy, Nora Roberts, or if she was feeling particularly desperate for distraction, Stephen King. She had a kitchen, which she rarely used, and a microwave utilized far more than the oven, freezer more crowded than the fridge. She had a bathtub, where she would drown herself in steaming hot water, close her eyes, and think of how long it had been since she’d been touched. And she had a bedroom, one she avoided at all costs. There was not a place in the world where she was more alone.
She told herself it was better this way, that it was better here. It would hurt more to be back home. At least here she had distractions, excuses. Here she could be someone else, or try to be.
No, Martha Kent certainly was not in Kansas anymore. But Kansas needed her far more than she needed it, and loneliness had come to suit her.
She preferred to walk to work whenever she had the time, footsteps along unfamiliar streets, gaze falling upon white, majestic structures that seemed out of place given the youth of her country. There were no green pastures, no open fields, nothing natural or…normal to her. Very impersonal.
Though she enjoyed going to work day after day - getting lost in the easy chaos of the political arena, lobbying for a vote, writing speeches, addressing her constituency, meeting with various NPO representatives, trying so desperately to do the right thing - the true nature of the job she was doing scared her. So much of her life had been spent helping those close to her, giving everything within her to ensure their happiness, and now more often than not she felt she was being spread too thin, trying to do the same thing for millions of people rather than simply her tight knit circle back in Smallville. It was exhausting.
She spent more time at work than the average Senator on the Hill. Most of her colleagues left the office around five, preferring to let their staff stay until all hours of the night doing their dirty work. But Martha Kent was always the last one to leave her own office. She insisted that this was purely selfless, part of the hard-working, efficient personality her father had bestowed upon her. The truth was, it was about as selfish as she got. When she was at the office, she didn’t need to worry about her own life. She didn’t need to think about the husband she had lost, the son she would always feel guilty about leaving, the farm she’d promised to manage. At work, she could be a Senator, not a lonely widow, a negligent mother, or a source of broken promises.
Martha hated her apartment. Nestled deep within the classy structures of Dupont Circle, she always longed to be someplace else. Apartments were cold and quiet, no life bursting within. There, she was alone. She had a couch, where she sat and watched the news, often eating - gasp! - frozen dinners. Occasionally she would read. The latest Tom Clancy, Nora Roberts, or if she was feeling particularly desperate for distraction, Stephen King. She had a kitchen, which she rarely used, and a microwave utilized far more than the oven, freezer more crowded than the fridge. She had a bathtub, where she would drown herself in steaming hot water, close her eyes, and think of how long it had been since she’d been touched. And she had a bedroom, one she avoided at all costs. There was not a place in the world where she was more alone.
She told herself it was better this way, that it was better here. It would hurt more to be back home. At least here she had distractions, excuses. Here she could be someone else, or try to be.
No, Martha Kent certainly was not in Kansas anymore. But Kansas needed her far more than she needed it, and loneliness had come to suit her.