Our Playlist [MOXIETY]

Fool

Unedited. 383 words. Characters by Thomas Sanders.

                    The soft ringing tone left a blur in their eyes as Patton sat up, their soft pajamas bunching up into crinkled corners. Patton was used to everything being a little blurry in the mornings, stumbling for their glasses as the morning light shone in through a hazy blue curtain.
                    A soft smile split their lips as they read the morning schedule, grabbing their bag and leaving the small apartment in the dim lighting. The dull hues of dawn echoed across the morning sky, the dirt road illuminated by the warm sun. Their pastel tee made a large difference in the spacious parking lot, his back making a soft and sweet tone to the area. They stood by the road, waiting for their Uber while pulling out their phone, and plugging in a pair of headphones, humming to the soft start to a sweet melody.

Call me on the phone at three
I'll talk to you
I'll laugh asleep

                  They sat by the curb, knowing full well that it would be a long time until they saw this place again. Their phone dinged, and they entered a car. Time to go all over again. They would the others, made a fan or two, and be back on the road.

Complaining bout your mother's tone
I'll take you to the cemetery

                Patton watched the scenery go by, knowing full well that this would be the last time they saw the small building until they were done with this long year.

Rant to me

I like the sound
I like your voice
I like your mouth

              The drive went on as they heard each note and rhythm, loving every moment, letting the sound absorb them, the harmony leaving an echo in their head, every word reminding them of so much in their life.

Cycling to school
Seven-thirty in the morning

              Patton looked out towards the fields, humming softly to each lyric, knowing every word as they rode along the path, the road switching to gravel.

I am still your baby boy
You're stuck in 2013

              The car stopped harshly by a large, decorated tour bus: a van, really, but no one cared. Their shoes hit the ground, bringing up a torrent of dust. They thanked the driver, and, in just a small moment, knew one thing. 

It was time to see everyone again.