When We Pine Away

¢н. 1

My body slams against the wet cement. My mother shuts the door as my father speeds away in the Subaru. It was raining about three minutes ago, and now, it starts to pour. Just my luck.

I trudge on the sidewalk, regardless of how many puddles I step in. Each one soaks my socks.

The roar of thunder and blaring horns doesn't help at all. Just makes me miserable, suicidal even.

My parents only packed me some insta-meals my dad had left over from the military, two outfits, a flashlight, and a blanket. Kind of them, with their personalities.

Cruel beatings with belts, wooden spoons, even fly swatters, bruise me daily. I look like a moldy banana. And they dropped me out of school after 3rd grade cause I wasn't 'smart enough.'

I could even unintentionally think 9+10 is 21.

+++

After the rain eases, I sit by a small market on the corner and hug my knees. Could life get any better?

The umbrella thing allows me some dryness, warmth too. Amazing.

I decide to step in the market to ask for usage of a microwave. My brown hair sticks to my dirty, wet face, as if I were a street monster.

"Sir? May I use your microwave?"

A Mexican turns around with his handlebar mustache curling around his face. Much more handsome than I could ever be. "Si," he smiles, swinging the door of the counter open, letting me in. I read the package and sliding it into the microwave. I set it to 2:09 and wait for the continuous beeps. Four to be exact.

He pushes the button for me. Steam rises everywhere, as well as the spicy scent of chicken and rice. Better than anything I would be served on a regular basis.

"Gracias," I say, taking a plastic bowl. He slightly bobs his head in return, as I walk out and see a pair of people watching their paces with their sunglasses sliding down the bridge of their noses. Who the hell wears sunglasses when it rains?

Greetings! I'm afraid I can't post until Tues. Then when I get a calendar, things will go smoothly. Yours,

Omega.