The Exchange

Give me your tired, give me your sick

7:35PM on a warm partly cloudy Southern California Evening.

     The man pulled up to the curb of her house silently--headlights dimmed by dying sunlight, yet still blinding the rear of a red 2001 Chevrolet Silverado. Immediately after placing the car in park, and pulling the emergency brake he hesitantly picked up his iPhone and began to text. 

     "I'm here"  

     This text lit up her phone with an eerieness--her eyes gazing upon the blue screen with full knowledge of what would soon pass. 

     "k" 

     The only text response she could give, and the most indifferent one she could give. She wouldn't mislead, she would stand her ground as a statue carved upon a foundation of granite.

     He opened his car door, then took a box filled with precious memories in the form of belongings from the back seat. Some gifts from her that he couldn't bear to look at, everything else hers. As he approached the driveway towards the front door, a glass fell out of the box and shattered. The driveway now covered in broken glass, so unwelcoming, so fragile to the touch--much like this moment in time. He had replayed this moment in his head over and over again, but he never imagined it would be quite like this. Stressed, he tried gathering the pieces of glass into the box as fast as possible. Part of him was happy that this happened, a subconscious rage of breaking something in front of this person who had done so much damage already. However, the box of precious memories became tainted by the hidden assortment of sharp glass shards provided by the panicked urgency of the man. Irony. 

The Vagabond

A Common Cold

9:06PM on a cool Sunday Southern California Evening.

     "You really want this?"

     "Yes, I'm certain. I want to work this out, even though I like you a lot--I like my boyfriend more."

     Her beautiful brown eyes were piercing--his voice cracked, he was in complete disbelief. This person, this amazing person whom had been around for so long had finally placed all of the necessary nails in the coffin of this "relationship."

     They resembled a young couple attending the Hard Rock Cafe, but this particular moment in time didn't catch the carefree nature of such a couple.Their attire consisted of the casually informal flavor. His tall average builded stature wore a dull plaid shirt made up of greys, blacks, and blues, skinny black jeans, and a pair of black classic Nikes--all complemented his pale complexion and short choppy dark hair. Her hourglass Victoria's Secret model body rocked a black cardigan, black jeans, and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt--her evenly tanned complexion along with her long dark hair placed a dark alluring aura of mystery. Both rock stars in their own right.

     "Are you kidding me? Look at me. Do you have any idea what you're missing out on?" His light brown eyes gleamed under his bedroom ceiling light as he gazed directly into hers.

     "I need to give him another chance, regardless of what we've been through."

     "Do you love him or something?" His high jawline clinched, not because he wanted to be with her desperately, but because of the guilt he would bring unto himself if he may have interfered with her love for another person.

A Night To Remember

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

8:17PM A Cool Huntington Beach California Evening     

     "Leave her the fuck alone Megan!"

     "Priscilla stop fucking defending Quasimodo, she's going to see just what happens when she fucks with other peoples' boyfriends!"

     "She didn't do anything Megan! HE started talking to HER!"

     Megan pushed Veronica down in the middle of the quad, dozens of curious eyes bearing witness to the event. Shouts of "Quasimodo go back to your bell tower!" Could be heard among the trickles of laughter. 

     "Oh look, are those spots of dirt on your face? Oh no? That's natural isn't it Quasimodo?" Megan said as she looked down at Veronica.

     "I...I didn't do anything, I'm sorry Megan," Veronica said mortified with tears in her eyes. 

     "Have some milk, you ugly bitch," Megan grabbed a carton of milk and poured it all over Veronica, "Don't ever fucking talk to MY boyfriend again," Megan said as she walked away triumphantly.

     The school staff intervened, herding the gathered students like cattle to their classes. Priscilla returned after everyone dispersed to see Veronica sitting outside the school office in her change of P.E. clothes with dried milk in parts of her short wavy black hair--the milk remnants giving off a sour pungent scent. Veronica was staring down at the cracks in the concrete floor.

     "Vee...don't worry, you only have two more years at this school," Priscilla said quietly.

     Veronica looked up at Priscilla, speechless, with tears in her dull green eyes.

     "Vee, are you okay honey?"

Savages

A Curious Dance

Some fucking mall in Southern California, mid-day

     A man holding two shopping bags, wearing a pair of loosely fitted brown khakis, and a black T-shirt stopped near the entrance of a sunglasses store. Lilly, the store associate continuously glanced at this man with curiosity as he stood there for 84 seconds. On the 85th second he began wiggling his hips around, ending this strange dance routine by kicking out his right leg and shaking it. After his display of odd behavior, he exited the small stage he created into the crowds of fashionable shoppers. 

Dancing With Devils

The Intruder

     "Hey Troy, remember that time you sold that oregano bullshit to those college kids?" I said, picking dirt out of my underdeveloped goatee.

     "Yeah what about it?" Troy asked leaning on his shovel handle, his tall scrawny body held up with ease. 

     "When they called you out on how legit it was, you asked them 'who the fuck do you think I am?' They laughed and actually bought it--you crazy asshole."

     "Fuck em,' I made buku dollars off those college idiots. The stupid pothead is the best customer. Now let's finish digging this fucking trench."