RedViper
June 29th, 2012, 06:16 AM
Late
He looked at the clock on the lounge wall. “She’ll be here any minute,” He thought to himself. He hadn’t seen her since she’d been deployed to Afghanistan a year ago. She insisted on making her own way back from the airport, which wasn’t untypical of her. She’d always been independent. He’d known her since they were 16 and even then she’d never accept help for anything. They’ve been together for 3 years, although he only counted it as two because of the year she’d been deployed. He looked at the clock again; she was almost fifteen minutes late. He figured she was stuck in traffic. She was always late. It was foolish of him to think she’d be back before now. He chided himself for his optimism. It made him think of the time she had been late for a class trip and chased the bus nearly a block before the driver realised.
He sat on the couch and smiled as he looked at a framed picture on the coffee table. It was of them at a Marilyn Manson concert, the last thing they did together before she left. They were three rows from the front, which gave them a clear view of the girl snorting cocaine out of Manson’s hand. Both their ears were ringing and they both had sore necks the next day from the violent head banging. It was their taste in music that brought them together. He remembered the first time they met. He was walking down the street listening to music. He had his head down staring at the ground until he saw a pair of feet. Before he had a chance to react he had collided with another person. Neither fell, but both stumbled back. He looked up and saw a girl with long black hair, black jeans and a Dio shirt. The same one he was wearing.
He glanced back at the clock; she was nearly forty minutes late. He began to pace between the couch and coffee table. He held his dog tags between his thumb and two fingers and rubbed them together. He wondered where she could be and why she was so late. He told himself that she was just stuck in traffic or that her flight was delayed. Glancing at the clock again he exhaled. She was almost an hour late. He walked over to the window and pulled the lace curtain to the side. The only thing he could see was an empty drive way and his elderly neighbour Ethel walking her dog. It was a Pomeranian. Neither he nor she could “that yappy overgrown rat”.
He felt a pain in his hand. He realised he had been digging his fingernails into his palm. He walked back over to the curtain and pulled the lace back. He could see the end of a taxi, the rest of it was hidden by bushes in the front yard. He ran out the front door but stopped when he saw a person walking along the footpath. He couldn’t tell if it was her. It looked like her but there was something different. As she got closer and turned down the driveway he realised it was her, but she wasn’t the same. She wasn’t running down the driveway to hug him with a joyous grin on her face. She just kept walking with her head down. He gripped the door handle tighter as she walked past him through the front door.
“Kristal?”
There is a prequel I wrote to this, find it here- http://www.virtualteen.org/forums/showthread.php?t=157158
Make sure you read 'Late' first though
He looked at the clock on the lounge wall. “She’ll be here any minute,” He thought to himself. He hadn’t seen her since she’d been deployed to Afghanistan a year ago. She insisted on making her own way back from the airport, which wasn’t untypical of her. She’d always been independent. He’d known her since they were 16 and even then she’d never accept help for anything. They’ve been together for 3 years, although he only counted it as two because of the year she’d been deployed. He looked at the clock again; she was almost fifteen minutes late. He figured she was stuck in traffic. She was always late. It was foolish of him to think she’d be back before now. He chided himself for his optimism. It made him think of the time she had been late for a class trip and chased the bus nearly a block before the driver realised.
He sat on the couch and smiled as he looked at a framed picture on the coffee table. It was of them at a Marilyn Manson concert, the last thing they did together before she left. They were three rows from the front, which gave them a clear view of the girl snorting cocaine out of Manson’s hand. Both their ears were ringing and they both had sore necks the next day from the violent head banging. It was their taste in music that brought them together. He remembered the first time they met. He was walking down the street listening to music. He had his head down staring at the ground until he saw a pair of feet. Before he had a chance to react he had collided with another person. Neither fell, but both stumbled back. He looked up and saw a girl with long black hair, black jeans and a Dio shirt. The same one he was wearing.
He glanced back at the clock; she was nearly forty minutes late. He began to pace between the couch and coffee table. He held his dog tags between his thumb and two fingers and rubbed them together. He wondered where she could be and why she was so late. He told himself that she was just stuck in traffic or that her flight was delayed. Glancing at the clock again he exhaled. She was almost an hour late. He walked over to the window and pulled the lace curtain to the side. The only thing he could see was an empty drive way and his elderly neighbour Ethel walking her dog. It was a Pomeranian. Neither he nor she could “that yappy overgrown rat”.
He felt a pain in his hand. He realised he had been digging his fingernails into his palm. He walked back over to the curtain and pulled the lace back. He could see the end of a taxi, the rest of it was hidden by bushes in the front yard. He ran out the front door but stopped when he saw a person walking along the footpath. He couldn’t tell if it was her. It looked like her but there was something different. As she got closer and turned down the driveway he realised it was her, but she wasn’t the same. She wasn’t running down the driveway to hug him with a joyous grin on her face. She just kept walking with her head down. He gripped the door handle tighter as she walked past him through the front door.
“Kristal?”
There is a prequel I wrote to this, find it here- http://www.virtualteen.org/forums/showthread.php?t=157158
Make sure you read 'Late' first though