Myra: Nervous is an understatement.

I wandered down the fairly empty street, writing in my notepad as I go. I was trying very hard to make sure this message didn't suggest things I didn't mean it to. I really wanted to make a good first impression. Someone bumped into my shoulder as I walked past, and muttered a quiet "sorry." My pen jerked across the page, drawing a bright purple line right through the text. I suppressed a sigh, then tore the page out, shoved it in my pocket and began again.


My name is Myra Elizabeth Sails, but Myra will do fine. I was born without my vocal chords, so I can't talk. I can hear though, so you don't have to use sign language or whatever. I'm not much good at sign language, hence the notepad. I don't really have very much actual experience, mostly just theory and knowledge, but I hope I'll be okay at this.

Yours sincerely, Myra.

I scanned through the violet note. It seemed to be okay.

I realised I'd arrived at SCIT. I knew basically where to go. I just hoped they were okay with the fact I was dumb - as in unable to speak, not stupid.

After a walking around for fifteen minutes and getting lost at least as many times, I got to what I hoped was the right place.

I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"I'm going to talk to you later, she is here now," someone with their back to me said into a phone after glancing round to see who'd just walked in, the hung up and turned to face me. I presumed that meant that 'she' was me.

I smiled slightly and held out the page with the purple ink semi letter on it.

The End

105 comments about this exercise Feed