Long Beach Rehabilitation Center
5:55, five minutes until wake up time.
i wipe the crust out of my eye. not that i actually slept, but i was tired, real tired.
here i was at 5 minutes till 6 am, my back against the flat bed with my eyes wide open, already annoyed and the knocking hadn't even started yet.
i looked at the clock that stuck high on the wall above the door. 5:59. a long exasperated sigh left my lips hearing the knock. "already up." i called to whatever staff member was on the other side of the door.
"morning, jahmier. we're having waffles this morning, see you at the cafeteria in 10, and make sure you wake up gustav."
"heard you." i responded half boringly. i was excited about the waffles though.
i heard the footsteps walk further and further away from the door until i didn't hear them. with another sigh i sat up rubbing my eyes, walking over to gustav's bed to wake his hibernating ass up. "gus," i called his name shaking him.
he didn't wake up after the first shake, so i shook him again. "come on gus, you know they don't play about that sleeping in shit."
"gus, nigga! get up you fucking bear." he turned over in his sleep just as i was about to slap him.
"fuck you." he groggily muttered, getting up and yawning. "come on man." i pulled him up off the bed before we walked to the door together.
the heavy door shut behind us as we stepped into the hallway, my arm swinging over his shoulder as we walked down the hall. "and guess what?" i didn't wait for him to answer. "they servin' waffles."
"waffles?" he asked amusingly, eyebrows raised. we hit the cafeteria entrance.
"fuckin' waffles."
⏳
art therapy
"pff, you can't top this." gus scoffed, holding up his painting for me to see. i shrugged unamused. "okay? nigga i am the literal seed of velazquez, the fucking painter nigga." i looked back down at my painting, adding some more red on the thick palette.
gus shook his head, setting down his paintbrush and rested his chin in the hand he was using to paint. "you really think you related to that old spanish painter, huh?" he chuckled. "all cus you got the same damn last name." he finished with a laugh.
i nodded not looking up from my painting that i was still working on. "hell yea. he gotta be my great grandpa or sum. we both yellow as hell, and i fuck with that whole curly mustache shit he had goin on, you feel me?" i said, my paintbrush stroking the palette a couple more times before i finally set it down.
"no, i don't feel you. but if you think that's yo grandpa then do you jahmier. now let me see that bitch ass painting of yours."
"bet." i grinned, turning around the painting and holding it up for him to see. "shit fye ain't it?"
i slid the painting across the table so that he could see better. he looked down at it. before telling me what he thought he paused, still looking down at the painting while he spoke, "ion wanna gas that small ass head of yours, but it's tight. one question though, what it mean?" he slid the palette back across the table.
