THOUGHTS OUT LOUD: A Journey into Open Reflections

I almost slept through work this morning, I tell you. I was snug as a bug in my own little nest, wrapped the blanket right up to my nose, and just waited for the alarm to go off like a kid waiting for Christmas. Maybe, deep down, I was hoping Mum would be in the kitchen frying up some buttery scones with raisins or whipping up a few chicken patties, and that shed call me down for breakfast any minute.

Even though Im turning thirtyfive this year, I still felt like a kid who wants to be Moms favourite, the one she dotes on. But the alarm didnt betray me at all it just stayed silent.

Emily, my wife, was already up, shuffling the kids Jack for the nursery and little Olivia for the reception class.

Why didnt you wake me? I asked her, a bit hurt, instead of the usual kissgoodmorning routine.

Youve got an alarm, Dave, she said. Did it not go off? You always get up when it rings. I thought maybe youd changed your lesson schedule again, so I kept quiet and tried not to disturb you with the house chores.

I threw on some clothes in a flash, brushed off her offer of breakfast no time, Im already late and tossed the blame at her, all your fault, love.

As she shut the front door behind me, I caught a snippet of her muttering to herself:

Always the same with me Im the one who ends up sleeping in, and he blames me. He never even kisses me goodbye. We havent had a proper chat in ages. Its been months now. Weve drifted apart. Somethings got to change. Im sad; this isnt the life we dreamed of. He used to be so caring and fun! What went wrong?

I turned round, Did you say that?

She waved me off, Nothing, just hurry up. Mrs. Thompson will have a fit if Im late. See you later, love, she said, blowing a kiss and flashing a halfsmile as she left.

At the bus stop I stood for only a few minutes, glancing at my watch and sighing heavily.

Ive got to make it to the first lesson or the headmaster will have my head, and Deputy Head Mrs. Thompson will add fuel to the fire. Shes never liked me for some reason, I thought, shifting from one foot to the other.

It was damp and cold outside, lone flakes drifting lazily, looking mournful as they fell. My stomach growled, craving at least a cold tea and a rough sandwich cut with that dull, lifeless knife I keep in the kitchen. But that wasnt the real test suddenly I could hear other peoples thoughts, slipping in through my ears whenever I glanced at them.

Bits of curses, whines, accusations, even the occasional swear word floated around the people standing with me. I tried to keep my eyes on the pavement, watching those graceful snowflakes finish their brief, pointless dance. Were they pulling off some kind of Olympic routine in the air? Could a snowflake ever read a mind or write a number down without a hand? I had no idea.

The constant mental chatter nearly drove me mad. It felt like a clogged drain in my head. I wondered aloud, Can anyone read thoughts? This never happened to me before. Am I sick? I havent had a drink in days. Is this curable? Is it contagious? If I close my eyes no, it wont stop. Who did I cross on the road to get this?

Just then the number1 bus appeared. Folks at the stop scrambled for a good spot. An unassuming elderly lady in a battered drape coat and a motheaten green scarf gave me a sharp push. I turned to see her and heard her private thoughts:

These lazy, halfbaked intellectuals! Useless lot. They should be sweeping the streets, not teaching our kids. They need to look in the mirror first! I could hug a fool like this and weep, then strangle him so he wont read any fancy books. They cant even hold a broom properly. Give them a mop and send them on their way.

What did you say to me? I asked.

Oh, dear, I said nothing, she replied, slipping onto the bus without a second glance.

I had to get to my first lesson, so I squeezed past her, slammed my shoulder into the frosty door and hopped on. I didnt have any cash for a private hire, so I was stuck with the usual London bus, packed with commuters in coats and umbrellas, all hurrying to some urgent business. It always feels like a scene from a sitcom when the crowd swarms the doors.

On the step beside me stood my pupil, little Anya from Year10B.

Good morning, Mr. Hughes! she chirped, barely noticing me.

Morning, Anya, I said, trying not to hear her thoughts. Think well make it to school on time?

She giggled in her mind, Mr. Hughes, youre such a cool teacher! Tall, blueeyed, proper handsome. Id probably fall for you if you werent so much older. Mrs. Thompsons always trying to make you nervous, swapping lessons around. Shes like a kettle about to blow!

I forced a smile, Lets hope we dont get held up. Youve got that independent work to finish, right?

All set, she replied, leaping off the bus as we pulled up at the school gates.

There, waiting by the entrance, was a woman I recognised Olga, the mother of my student Vlad. Hed been out of school for a month with a nasty broken ankle.

Morning, Mr. Hughes. Im sorry to hold you up, but could you give Vlad some extra physics lessons? Either at our place or over Zoom, whatever works. Hes missed a lot and needs to catch up. Of course, I cant pay things have been tight after his surgery.

I could already hear her thoughts: Weve got no money, everythings gone into the operation. I need to talk to Mrs. Thompson and the maths teacher; the fees will be astronomical. Ill have to clean the flats after work, maybe get a bit of extra cash from the neighbour. Well manage, well survive.

I said, Dont worry about the money, Olga. Ill send him a Zoom link this evening and well go over algebra and geometry together. Hell be back on his feet soon enough.

She burst into tears, Thank you! Here, take these apples from our garden theyre fresh. She handed me a hefty bag.

I opened it and saw plump, redcheeked apples smiling back at me. My heart felt warm. Doing something kind really does make you feel richer.

In the school hall I bumped into Mrs. Thompson. I tried not to pick up what she was thinking, but a glimpse slipped through: That cheeky, wordless fool! Ill give him a life of constant schedule changes. Hell never get any extra lessons, just enough to keep him on a shoestring. Hell stay poor, his wife will leave, and Ill enjoy watching him scramble. I forced a grin and headed to my staffroom.

I rummaged through my bag and found the lunchbox my wife had packed a thermos of scalding coffee and a sandwich. Miracle!

During break, Svetlana from Year8A popped in, avoiding eye contact.

Whats up, Svet? she thought, Mrs. Thompson wants me to loosen my blouse buttons and stand close to the teacher. She promised me a top mark if I do it. Ill slip out fast after that.

I caught the drift and bolted out, colliding with Mrs. Thompson at the doorway. These rehearsals are getting old, I muttered, thinking perhaps I should look for a new job.

After the third lesson, an old university mate called, offering me a position at his private academy where he was headmaster. I promised to think it over and arranged to discuss it with Emily over coffee. My bank app pinged the salary had landed, a tidy few thousand pounds. Suddenly I felt like the richest man alive, not because of cash or jewels, but because I have a loving wife, kids, and a good heart.

As I was closing the school doors, a snowball bumped my head. I brushed it off, stepping out into the crisp afternoon, still needing to make peace with Emily.

Hope I never have to hear anyones thoughts again, though today it was oddly useful, I thought, buying a bunch of white chrysanthemums from a kiosk for Emily. I paid the lady and, for once, didnt hear her inner monologue.

I smiled to myself, What a life! All this hustle for nothing but a good laugh. I almost lost Emily over petty fights, but shes running towards me now, hair in a curl, grinning. I tucked a stray lock behind her ear, kissed it, and it smelled like home.

The snowflakes kept swirling, performing their tiny aerial tricks. Maybe theyre the ones that finally eased the tension between us, fluttering their white wings and reminding us that even the coldest days can turn warm.