SHORT STORIES{collection]

TWO MINUTES

Time. 10:19 p.m. South Florida. The traffic light rests at red for an eternity, mocking me with its condescending gaze. I quickly turned my head both directions, not a car in sight for what it seemed to be miles. Is this some kind of joke? Looking into the rear view mirror, nothing there by me. James Montgomery. Glasses, brown hair, green sweater vest, and an untrimmed beard. Some people say I resemble a young Robin Williams from Good Will Hunting. I'll take that as a compliment. A journalist of ten years at the same section in the local newspaper. The only thing I've done differently in the time span is learn Spanish. With being in a Hispanic community, I thought it would be beneficial. Besides, it's not like I'm in a hurry to get to the family reunion, we all know how they go. People ask you some meaningless scripted question like, "James, how's work going?" And you lie that work is going well and you're on the verge of that big promotion. In the end, when your life is stuck at a red light, sometimes you just got to run it. To be honest, the only thing I was looking forward to was the Galettes. My favorite treat since I was a kid. My mom would only make them around the holidays, but when she made them, they were pretty good. Nine eggs and a pound of sugar, you know that's good. If I can maneuver through the bullshit and get my hands on them and leave, that'd be a win. As I'm about to put my foot to the accelerator, I see a bug climbing my window. It staring at me with those green eyes through the looking glass. It almost looked like a chameleon. I roll down the window, flick the bug onto the pavement of the road, and roll the window back up. Without any further delay, I propel my car forward, through the stubborn light and down the road.

I reach the front of my parent's driveway, looking at my childhood house just poking out of the thick woods. The lamp out front sporting a reddish color, it was so captivating, almost like it was drawing me towards the house. The outside of the house now suddenly terrified me. It was a plain white house but with age, it began to peel off and reveal a pale brownish color. The roof remained intact with a dark maroon color with the front porch, old, gray, and missing plenty of floorboards. At day, the house would seem harmless, but at night, it would turn into this hazy mirage of a peeling grinning face. I had a feeling that this house wasn't my house, but you couldn't deny the similarities. It's been years since I've been here so it was bound to change. Especially with my boss keeping me at the office all the time. Surprised that I'm able to go now. I pull up behind this massive black truck that shadows the cars in the front of it. No doubt, my brother Alex is here. One could tell because it still has a "Class of 2002" sticker on it, as well as "State Champions 2001" on it. Yeah, he still thinks he's hot shit for winning a state championship in high school football fifteen years ago when he was the backup quarterback. My parents would always put him on a pedestal, even over me. I walk past the monstrous truck, up the porch and to the door.

The door read, "Welcome. God bless this home and all who enter."

Reading that over and over again, I said, "Should be fun."

*

The living room looked exactly the same since I last saw it. The large entertainment center that took up most of the room. Furniture all around it as well as the cat toys spread out across the worn down brown carpet. All the cat towers and furniture made it like an obstacle course to get from one side of the room to the other.

"Hey, mom!" I yelled. "Sorry I'm late, got stuck in some traffic."

While turning around and closing the door behind, I feel a cold chilly breeze hit the back of my neck that left my frozen in place. I slowly turned my head around and saw Alex standing no more than a couple of inches from me.

"Holy shit, Alex!" I said slowly pushing him to a comfortable distance. "And there you are."

Alex just stands there with a grin on his face. His car salesman uniform stained with something red. Cherry Coke was his favorite drink, could be that. His long blonde hair combed to the back of his head, along with a black bruising polluting his left eye. He always had his class ring on, but now it seemed to be absent from his fingers. He just stood there, looking at me.