Higher

Introduction(s)

The smell of cigarette smoke on the elder man's jacket wafted towards me as he quickly shuffled past down the aisle. I had to pause and close my eyes, recalibrating my system, as I've had to do when that particular smell hits my nose. Memories threaten to overwhelm me every time this happens. 

A gentle caress, whiskey breath, the smell of pumpkin spice and pine trees. 

The feelings threaten to pull me back to years long past. Three deep breaths, one long exhale, and I open my eyes.

The breakfast aisle of Kroger is no place to lose myself. Glancing down at my list, I see that I only have two items left to put in my cart before I can leave this backroom hell. Quickly grabbing a box of cheerios and a gallon of 2% milk I made my way to the self check-out. The less people I interacted with, the more my anxiety calmed. I ignored the slight shake in my fingers, focused on mentally double-checking I had grabbed everything on my list.

It took me exactly 27 minutes and 45 seconds to make it to the front door of my run-down home. It took 18 more seconds before the clouds decided to rain down on me as I fumbled to get the keys out of my purse. Cursing and mumbling, I knew I should have gone to the grocers yesterday. 75 seconds later and I was inside putting vegetables in my fridge. That was when there was a knock at my front door. There was only one person who would visit, my dad, and he would always let himself in considering he had a key.

I paused, counting 25 seconds, before there was another round of knocks at the door that made me cringe. 

Knocking has always been an unsettling noise to me. I debated what I should do. This area of town wasn't the nicest, or safest, so it's very possible that the person at the door could wish me harm or be scouting my home. As shitty as the place was, it was precious to me. I grabbed the steel bat I kept in the nook by the door and went on my tip-toes to look out the peephole.

Confused, I realized that whoever was standing on my porch had to be very short considering I could barely see the top of their head swaying side to side. 

Before the child (or little person, I wasn't quite sure which it was yet) could knock again, I opened the door. It was in fact a small child, probably around 6 or 7, and male. He was a shivering mess soaked from head to toe. His clothes were covered in mud; especially his little shoes. 

His shirt had 14 stripes from what she could see; 7 white and 7 red.

"What the hell are you doing outside and why are you caked in mud?" 

I briskly, but sternly, questioned.

"Well -" 

He started, but was cut off by me ushering him inside, out of the bite and chill of the storm.

"Get inside before you get sick and die." I mumbled.

I grabbed my only towel from the bathroom and wrapped him up, pushing him to sit on the wooden chair of my small dining table. It could sit four people. After the strange boy had color in his cheeks again, I spoke.

"What is your name? Why were you outside alone?"

The little boy snuggled deep into the towel and sighed. He glanced around the stingy room with little to no decorations before looking down at the table between them. His rosey cheeks and pout made him adorable.

"I'm Damien. I was outside playing in the trees just across the road - the little forested area - and I didn't know it was going to rain. But I was playing with some mud and slipped down a hill. I think I hurt my ankle and my dad isn't home yet, and it's a far walk to get home, so I knocked to see if I could get help." 

He rushed it out all in one breath.

I hadn't even noticed the boy limping, to focused on getting him to sit and warmed up. I had plenty more questions, but quickly set priorities.