THOUGHTS OVERHEARD.
This morning Daniel Brooks almost missed his shift at the engineering plant. He longed to stay curled up in his snug little nest, the warm duvet hugging his feet, and wait for the alarm to chime. Perhaps, deep down, he imagined his mother in the kitchen, whipping up fragrant raisin scones or chicken cutlets, and soon calling him down for breakfast.
Even though Daniel had just turned thirtyfive, the feeling was the same. Who doesnt sometimes wish to be the beloved child, pampered and cherished by mum?
Today the alarm proved a traitor, remaining silent at the appointed hour. Claire, his wife, had already risen and was packing their son Sam and their little daughter Poppy for nursery.
Why didnt you wake me? Daniel asked, his voice tinged with hurt instead of the usual kissgoodmorning.
Your alarm is supposed to do the work, Claire replied. Didnt it go off? You always get up with it. I guessed your timetable had changed again, so I tried not to disturb you, keeping the house as quiet as possible.
He slipped on his coat, declined the breakfast Claire offeredno time, he muttered, its all my fault, dear and hustled out. As Claire shut the door behind him, Daniel heard her mutter to herself:
Always the samehe oversleeps, and Im blamed. She never kisses me goodbye. We havent really talked in months. Weve drifted apart. Something has to change; this isnt the life we once dreamed of. He used to be so caring and fun! What went wrong?
Claire, what was that? Daniel asked, turning.
Nothing, she said, smiling as she blew him a quick kiss. Dont be late. Miss Hopewell wont forgive you. See you later, love. She lingered at the doorway, waving a singleliped smile.
At the bus stop Daniel waited only a few minutes, eyes flicking to his watch, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.
I must make it to the first lesson or the headmaster will have my hide, and Deputy Head Miss Hopewell will add fuel to the fire. She loathes me for reasons I cant fathom, he thought, shifting from foot to foot.
The street was damp and cold. Lone snowflakes drifted lazily, their descent melancholy and indecisive, mirroring the blackandwhite pictures swirling in Daniels mind.
His stomach growled, longing for at least a mug of tea and a hastily cut sandwich. But the real test was that he began to hear other peoples thoughts, as if they slipped through his ears and lodged in his head whenever he glanced at someone.
Snatches of curses, complaints, and occasional profanity floated from the strangers around him. He tried to look down at the pavement, watching the delicate flakes perform their brief, pointless dance. Were they attempting graceful spins like a figureskaters axel or a simple tumble? He could not read their minds, but the sensation was disorienting.
The mental chatter overwhelmed him, sounding like a stormdrain in full flood. He wondered whether everyone could read thoughts, whether he was ill, whether this was a contagious condition, or merely a trick of his imagination.
Just then bus number 1 appeared around the corner. People shuffled forward, eager to claim a seat. An unassuming elderly lady in a faded tweed coat and a motheaten green scarf nudged Daniel sharply in the back. He turned, hearing her private commentary:
These halfbaked intellectuals scurry about! Theyre good for nothing. Let them sweep the streets while they teach our children! Look at this foolhe makes me want to hug and weep, then choke him so he stops reading lofty books!
What did you say to me? Daniel asked, startled.
Nothing, dear, the old woman replied, stepping onto the bus without a word.
Determined to reach his physics class, Daniel slipped past the lady, pressed his back against the icy metal doors, and boarded. He had no money for a fare, so he relied on the freetravel pass his employer provided, watching a parade of commuterspeople in trench coats and scarveshurrying to their urgent tasks, all as if caught in a frantic race for something unseen.
Inside the bus a girl from his class, Lucy, from Year 10B, called out, Good morning, Mr. Brooks! She had barely noticed him rush on.
Morning, Lucy, Daniel replied, averting his gaze to avoid her thoughts. Do you think well be late for school?
Lucys inner voice swirled: Hes such a handsome teachertall, blueeyed, almost like a hero. If he were younger I might fall for him. Miss Hopewell is always trying to get his attention, but he seems oblivious. She keeps swapping our worksheets just to annoy him. She watches him like a hawk!
Ill try not to be late, Daniel said aloud, hoping to drown out the noise. Youve got your independent work today, havent you?
Im ready, Lucy said, hopping off at the next stop.
Outside the school gates, a woman waited. Daniel recognised her as the mother of his pupil, Victor. The boy had missed a month of school after a severe ankle fracture.
Good morning, Mr. Brooks, she began, eyes watery. Im afraid Ill have to ask you to give Victor some extra physics lessons, either at our home or via Zoom. Hes fallen behind and needs help. Of course, well pay for it.
Daniel could already hear her thoughts: We have no money left; everyones gone for surgery. I must talk to the maths teacher, Mrs. Hopewell, and somehow scrape together enough. If I can clean the flats after work, maybe the grant will arrive. Well survive, well not starve.
Mrs. Collins, he said, using the name hed heard earlier, dont worry about money. Ill send Victor the Zoom link this evening and well catch up on algebra and geometry together. Hell be walking on his own again soon.
She broke into tears, clutching a heavy bag of homegrown apples. Thank you so much, she whispered, handing him the sack. Please take thesefresh from our orchard.
Inside the bag lay shiny red apples, smiling up at him. A warm feeling settled in his chest. Doing good, he realized, made him richer than any paycheck.
In the school hall, Daniel greeted Mrs. Hopewell, the deputy head. He tried not to listen, but her thoughts floated unmistakably: That insufferable boy! Ill make his life a circus. Hell never get extra duties or promotions. Hell stay underpaid forever, his wife will leave him, and hell rot in poverty. He forced a smile and walked to his classroom, fifteen minutes before the lesson. He opened his bag and found the lunchbox Claire had left, complete with a steaming thermos of coffee.
During the break, a pupil named Emma from Year 8A slipped into the physics room, avoiding eye contact.
What do you want, Emma? Daniel asked.
He heard her think: Why does Miss Hopewell need me to loosen my blouse and stand by the teacher? She promised me a good grade if I do this.
Taken aback, Daniel darted out of the room, colliding with Mrs. Hopewell at the door. These theatrics from the deputy are endless, he muttered, wondering if he should look for another job.
After his third lesson, his university friend Mark called, offering a position at a private academy where he was headmaster. Daniel promised to think it over, planning to discuss it with Claire over coffee. That morning his bank account had been credited, and he felt unexpectedly affluentnot in cash or jewels, but in love, children, and a generous heart.
Leaving the school, a snowball smacked his head. He shrugged it off and stepped out, still needing to make peace with Claire.
Hopefully Ill never hear other peoples thoughts again, he mused, buying a bouquet of white chrysanthemums from a metro kiosk for his wife. He paid the florist and, for the first time, decided not to eavesdrop on her mind.
He walked home, feeling a lightness he hadnt known in months. How lucky I am, he thought, watching Claire run toward him, smiling brightly, a stray lock of hair escaping her bun and falling across her eyes.
He gently brushed the hair away, kissed it, and inhaled the scent of home and warmth. Snowflakes continued their lazy pirouettes, their silent dance somehow sealing the truce between Daniel and Claire.
In the end, he realised that listening to everyone elses worries only drowned out his own voice. By turning inward, sharing kindness, and embracing the ordinary moments, he found true peace. The real lesson: a life lived for others, without losing oneself, is the most rewarding journey of all.
