Fragile: Same Old Boring Life

It was one of the things, summer days reached lazily on into summer nights. In autumn, the light snuck out early, like it was late for something, like it might not be coming back. She started to feel uneasy, had a sense that the day was racing away and she was being left behind. She was too young to feel like that, that she had all the time in the world. But she couldn’t shake the feeling.

It was dark now, as dark as it would be at midnight and curiosity got the better of her. She hated it when white, suburban guys tried to talk and act like gangbangers, taking on the too-cool lope and apathetic, half lidded gaze. It would be nice to get high, even with a dork. Marijuana was the only thing that had ever taken the edge off the constant buzz of anxiety she had lately. It made her calm, relaxed her, made her laugh.

Just like that he turned her off, turned her out, and stared blankly ahead, as if she wasn’t even there. She felt like she would say something, apologize. She started toward home, feeling a little bad. She knew he was thinking that she was a bitch, stuck-up. Everyone thought that. But it wasn’t true. Just thinking about it made heat come to her cheeks. Tonight she thought she might call him back. She didn’t like not having a boyfriend.

#Fragile