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Troy awoke for school in morning, fully cognizant of the approaching street sweep, thanks to Paul’s insightful warning. He followed his usual morning routine, beginning his walk to school at six fifteen in the morning, precisely when the sun began to glow over the horizon.
During the walk, tumbling thoughts filled Troy’s mind.
Where would I stay tonight? Should I try and stay in another street, under another bridge? Should I ask somebody if I could stay at their place this week? I need to figure this out. Maybe I should try to find Paul and stay with him upstate, I’d be safer up there. Darn it! I knew I should have gone with Paul last night! I can afford to skip a few school days for something like this—if I get swept up, I risk my entire college career before it ever begins! I haven’t missed a day of school in years! I could have afforded to. Shoot. I need to figure this out.
Upon arriving to school, Troy felt hungrier than usual. He always waited to eat until lunch, when he received a free meal without anybody—except the administration—knowing. But not breakfast—he was rarely hungry for breakfast. Troy walked around the school to the back, where the dumpsters rest. Standing on the tips of his toes, he peered into the dumpster. A reeking stench that curls normal human nostrils smelled abnormally appetizing to Troy. He scanned the contents of the giant green dumpster, eyes twitching from one decaying item to the next. Cardboard boxes, black garbage bags, clear plastic beverage bottles layered the top of the mess.
What’s inside the garbage bags? he wondered.
Food was on his mind, evident with the loud grousing his stomach made during the walk this morning. Troy leapt up onto the dumpster’s ledge. He paused for a split second, crouching and balancing on the rim before he jumped in. He tore away at the garbage bags, ripping the stretchy plastic until the appetizing stench filled Troy’s nostrils.
Ah! An apple! he thought with immeasurable joy.
Troy clawed at the bags as a brown, half-eaten apple core rolled down into the depths of the cardboard boxes and black plastic bags. He dug deeper; he was determined to locate it. In a matter of seconds, Troy came up with the brown apple core. He was pleased. He held it out in front of him for a split second, viewing it in the glow of sunlight to ensure its edibility. He bit into the mushy brown apple with a smile. Devouring the aging, half-eaten fruit, Troy lifted his leg back up to the dumpster’s ledge. With his right hand posted down, he threw his feet out from under him, landing back onto the blacktop with a thud of rejuvenated satisfaction.
Now, he thought, now I can find a place to go.
Surprised he didn’t think of it sooner, he looked back behind him at the dumpster with a grin.
That’s perfect! he shouted silently in his mind.
Plastic bags for blankets, cardboard boxes for a mattress and roof, and the iron dumpster for walls! It would be perfect for a clandestine one-week stay until the sweep passed by.
YOU ARE READING
The Movement
Ficțiune științifico-fantasticăTroy Duckworth is a successful businessman whose random act of charity turns him into the monster he once despised. With the diehard effort of a dangerous homeless man, Troy rediscovers his genius mind, tragic childhood, and the unstoppable revolut...