Imaginative writing(650-800)

As soon as the school bell rings, I rush out from the classroom and quickly dash into the busy train
station. I jump of the train direct to the street as fast as I can. The whole world can manifestly see the word
“happiness” from my face because I can finally go back to Thailand! Since I’ve been tortured to study in Japan
for 3 months, so now on I can take a deep breath. No more Kanji. No more Hiragana. No more Japanese.

“Tadaima!” as I get into the room, I can see Mina, my Vietnamese roommate. She’s preparing a huge
size of Bento box with a nametag ‘Memie’ on it. Honestly, I personally think that no one could be nicer and
more generous as Mina. She is an angel. Everyone in the dorm agree with me for this point, without Mina I
don’t think I can still survive in Japan this easily as a 10-year-old kid, she’s the only one who always take care of
me and treat me like her sister. She asks me more than 1,000 times already if I’ve finished packing my luggage
and whether have I checked the flight details carefully yet.

Whilst me and Mina are busily packing stuffs, “Ding. Ding. Ding.”. The notification from my phone rings
loudly on the table. As I turn back to look the screen, the black letter shows up the name I want to avoid the
most and one of the reasons why I come to Japan.

“Mom”

She sends me a flight ticket detail, however with that low quality screenshot I could see just only a half
of the ticket. Even though I ask her to resent it again, she keeps sending me the same awfully screenshot again
and again. I give up. “Don’t worry. It’s probably the Narita Airport!”. Mina says confidently as the majority of
other students went there too. “I’ll write a note for you, you have to take a several trains and buses. It’s very
difficult for you to read the sign anyway”. She gives me piece of pink sticky note with neatly handwriting
instruction that shows the name of each station: Otsuka, Nippori and Narita Airport. Then tell me to sleep early
as boarding time is around 12 pm.

At 6 AM, as usual I instantly spring out from the bed and wake Mina up. Then we eat some bread and
milk, clean dishes and take a shower like our daily routine. In spite the fact that this is my last day. No matter
how big baggage is, we silently carry luggage from the 3rd floor down to the door since our neighbors are still
sleep and having their pleasant dreams. When we arrive at the station, Mina suddenly jumps and hugs me
tightly that I could barely breathe. After 3 minutes, she sends me off at the ticket gate. “I’ll miss you every,
every, every single day after you’ve gone, Memie! Do not forget to eat the Bento and read my not--”. Before
she finish the sentence, people at the back push her away, she is slowly disappeared in the sea of crowd, then I
shout back to her. “See you again next year!”.

When I arrive at the Narita Airport, as it is early in the morning I can see just a few people in front of the
check in machine, close to the self-service baggage machine. There are more than 10 available machines,
which is impossible in Thailand, people will scramble towards this machine directly as soon as they arrive, but
anyway this is Japan. I enter the passport and flight number and hopefully after this I can walk outside and
grab a drink. “INVALID NUMBER”. Oddly, it won’t let me check in. Did I do something wrong? Maybe I check in
the flight too soon, I should wait for a few hours, right? With innocent ideas of 10-years-old kid, I patiently wait
for the time to pass and search any solutions on google while waiting. 11 O’clock. I have an hour left before the
boarding time. Everyone starts getting in the gate apart from me who still at the machine.

The instinct whispers around my ears, tells me that something must have gone wrong. I run to the
counter. I ask the assistant lady “Could you check my flight’s boarding time for me please?”. I give her my
passport whilst my hands are shacking. The rhythm in my heart anxiously drops in every second, the sound of
the heart beat blocks out the noises from all directions, I could feel my lips getting drier. What should I do? All
of a sudden, the sound of high heels clicking pulls me up from my mind, the assistance comes up with her
friends. I can clearly see from their facial expressions and seems like the prediction is true. “Sorry for the
waiting miss Mata, we think you’ve misunderstood something”. The question is forming on my lips, but the
lady doesn’t give me a chance to ask. “You’re in the wrong airport”.