Inote the burgundy carpet flowing underneath my feet and I idly wonderif the interior designer was color blind. It was probably decoratedby the architects that built this place. Clearly, the interior wasnot much of a priority. My vision drifts upward towards my apartmentdoor at the end of the hallway, I squint to see a dark figure loomingwith its feet crossed, casually waiting for me. Why did this hallwayhave to be so creepy? No one thought to add windows or a fewpictures? Just a long, pale walls, speckled with gray doors that aredecorated with scratches and missing paint chips.
After stoppingfor a moment to allow my heartbeat to slow, I continue towards myhome. Finally my eyes adjust to the dim lighting enough to see thenavy blue jacket I recognize.
"Ben? What are you doing here?"I ask, cautiously annoyed.
"You really need to invest in a cellphone," he welcomes.
"That's not a priority Benjamin. What'sup," I ask the door as I dig into my tacky orange bag for thekeys.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he murmersbehind me.
I twist my keys into the lock and push the heavy dooropen.
After tossing my book bag onto the couch, I turn to Benwho is already planted in front of his up and running laptop. Hisfingers flutter across the keyboard as I approach.
Leaningover his shoulder, I ask again
"What's going on?"
Benturns the screen to me and remarks,
"Look."
ONGOINGSERIES OF PROTESTS AND CIVIL DISORDER CAUSING CHOAS IN SOUTHERNGEORGIA
Frustrated by his over-reaction I reply,
"Ben thishas been developing for months. This isn't the first time, and itwon't be the last."
A simple news headline, really? This washappening states away. Yes it's awful , this happens more oftenthan it should (which is never), but people are getting fed up.
"Mypoint here Anna, is that this is happening right here, right now.This here, what we are witnessing is the beginning of a dominoeffect. A revolution has begun. The people are fighting back. I thinkwe should call a meet. Have everyone that is locally available meetus at the park in Springsdale. See if they can get to the field bysunrise and we'll go from there. We need to get prepared for what'scoming," Ben calls out before closing my front door with him on theother side of it.
I stand in the middle of my living room infront of a massive pile of confusion Ben left behind. Quickly, I logonto the Realist Pub webpage and type a quickmessage.
**ALERT**
Alllocals are needed at Springsdale tomorrow morning before dawn. Sorryfor the short notice.-A
Ipost it up and sign off.
"Ugh," I grumble as I dive facefirst into my grisly brown couch pillow. I assemble all myfrustrations into one steady stream and force them out in oneprolonged scream. That'sbetterI think, composing myself.
A flutter in my lower bellyreminds me the poor little seedling has been simmering in a lot ofnegative emotions today. It's probably hungry too. Taking a deepbreath I think to myself, shakeit off.To put emphasis on my determination to rid of dead weight, I give myentire body a quick shake. Already, I feel better. No more negativitytoday. In the kitchen I dig out some peanut butter and begin theprocess of preparing myself a sandwich.
