Love me (A Princeton Love Story) •ON HOLD•

Chapter 7

Prince. . .

As I entered the outside world, I was greeted with a foggy sensation. The leaves rustled under my feet as I walked. I looked around the small neighborhood, and things had looked completely different than what it used to be-, or what I'd remembered. I looked at the small, one story houses that layered the streets. There were decorations and leaves everywhere for the upcoming holiday, Thanksgiving. As I observed each house and its beautiful decorations, something caught my eye. I looked up at one house, the biggest house on the street, and noticed someone staring at me through the dark blinds. Not knowing how to react, I warmly waved with a huge smile painted on my face.

The figure moved away from the blinds and disappeared, leaving only the dim light that had shone from behind the window. I shrugged and continued to walk slowly, examining the house next to it. Out of surprise, a sound interrupted my walking and observing. It was a sound of a door opening and being slammed shut. I turned my attention to the noise maker was a small Mexican man, who stood about 5'5 tall with straight posture.

"What are you doing out here so late, Amigo?" He asked.

"Just taking a little walk, 'ya know, to get some some fresh air," I answered. But by the looks of his frustration, he wasn't believing a word I said.

"'Ya know there's curfew?" He said. I hadn't had a clue of curfew, and it must be a new thing. But I still wondered why he cared so much and why couldn't he just've let this little thing slide.

"No. . ." I said, still confused.

"That's what you all say!" He said sticking his finger in my face. I didn't want to argue because he was a short person (not that it matters), and he might have 'little man sendrum'. Little man sendrum- meaning that he has bad attitude that came with his height- had been something my mother said on occasion about my younger brother Craig's height.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"I mean all you teenagers that's out at night. You all say that you had no clue about curfew, when it's obvious that it comes on the news every night!" He said, each word being sympathized. I looked at him as if he were speaking another language.

"But this is my first time out. . . And I don't watch the news," I implied.

He pulled out his cellular device, and seemed to have dialed a couple of numbers, three at the most. He put the phone to his ear, eyeing me as he began to speak.

"Hello, Police?" He started. He seemed to give me a while to realize that he had threatened to call the cops, and I flew my hands toward the phone, an immediate reflex. But the second he'd put the phone back, was the second he'd moved his phone away, only inches away from my hand.

He began to smile a bit, and slowly slid the phone into his pants pocket. "Gotcha!" He said devilishly. I cocked my head to the side, trying to put together everything that had happened, for it happened so quick!

Then I realized that it had all been a joke.

"That's not cool," I said with the sound of disapproval following closely after my voice.

"Man, you're a put down," He started, "But believe that I'm not calling the cops. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand to apologize. I shook it wearily, with a frown that still covered my face. "Have a nice night!" He yelled as he made his way to his front door, returning back to his home, where I should be heading soon.

. .

As I found my way to the end of the neighborhood, cars began to fly past me. There was a big road, coated with small cars and trucks, all finding their way home.