Richie's perspective
My life these days wasn't exactly what you would call exciting.
I had recently received a job opportunity with Mr. Keene, who had ( to my despair ) been in contact with my mother over my 'lazy attributes'. Without even thinking or caring about what that meant, I agreed to it. It wasn't like Maggie would consider letting me off with it anyway.
Drumming my fingers on the counter, I mentally prepared myself for a long day of sorting and daydreaming.
It was only my second day doing this, but I was already bored shitless. What was I going to think about all day? This was only day two and I'd already wasted a large fraction of my useless topics to debate in my head.
My eyes flicked from the clock to the door repetitively, pondering on the fact that there had been close to zero customers so far. It wasn't like I gave two flying fucks, less people meant less work.
I was minutes away from giving in and taking my lunch break, ( Which I would most certainly not return from ) when the door finally swung open.
After I reluctantly drew my attention away from the clock, I squinted over at the customer that had entered. From what I could see, it was a shorter boy that looked like his whole bloodline just died. Fantastic impression.
I waited until he came a bit closer before I could properly examine his face, as my contacts were absolutely atrocious. The only reason my friends had convinced me to use them instead of my glasses was to "attract the women."- Which is absurd.
What women?
Where?
They certainly didn't look at me, glasses or not.
Being completely fair, I didn't look at them either.
Briefly moving on from that topic, I was able to get a better view of the customer when he finally stomped up and slammed a list down on the counter. He looked to be around the same height as me, his skin tanned and peppered with freckles. His nose was scrunched up in what appeared to be a mixture of sorrow and frustration as he rummaged through a tattered fanny pack.
I continued to stare at him for a while, before being snapping out of it and focusing as he began to speak.
"Just the regular, Mr. Keene."
When I heard his voice, a wave of memories hit me all at once. Suddenly, I was 13 again. High on delusion. In a perfect group of friends, spending my summer days at the quarry and falling head over heels for somebody that would never reciprocate my feelings.
I knew him.
Quite a lot, actually.
6 years had passed since I'd last seen his face, heard his voice, felt his presence. We were inseparable in my eyes, and he was the first person I ever really cared about. But things were different now. He probably didn't even know who I was anymore.
I fidgeted with my hands, staring at the boy in awe.
My whole body felt like it was hyperventilating. Could this really be happening? What do I say? Would he remember me?
I finally mustered the courage to speak up, bracing myself for confused response.
"Eds?"
When he looked up at me, my whole body froze.
"Richie?"
The eye contact lasted for what felt like multiple lifetimes, neither of us uttering a word as we took in eachothers altered appearances. He looked so different. I subconsciously parted my lips, my eyes darting across his face and blinking repetitively. He was most certainly taller, his hair longer and a bit less tamed. My brain was completely fuzzy, causing myself to bring a hand to the back of my head and sigh.
