glitches

 *This is a complete work of fiction and any relation to another story or real life is purely coincidental.*

            Our society defines us by our flaws, never stopping to look at our perfections.  We try to keep our weaknesses a secret, not allowing anyone to see past the surface.  But what if this went too far? What if our imperfections—our little glitches—created a larger mess than could have ever been predicted?

                You think I’m over reacting? I might be. But who’s to say that we don’t all have a little monster inside of us.  I know I’ve got more than a few skeletons in my closet.  And when people find those bodies, it’s terrifying.  We’ve been exposed in a way that we never anticipated. However, I’ve begun to think it’s worse discovering a friends “glitch” than being the person with the deficiency.  I guess it’s like seeing someone nude—definitely more awkward for the culprit than the victim.

                These thoughts all began a couple weeks ago in chemistry class.

                Second row, third seat from the right.

                I don’t have many friends in that class. I’m the only sophomore in the bunch, though there are many acquaintances.  One is Maggie DePiero, a senior girl.   She always seemed rather normal, short brown hair, thin physique… but I suppose we all do on the surface.  A little over 14 days ago, she came into school with no make-up on and baggy jeans that made her look 30 pounds heavier.  I thought she was just having a bad day until she came in the next day with the same unwashed apparel.

                Maybe she lost her make up?

                Next day.

                Her washer broke?

                Next day.

                Boyfriend dumped her?

                If only this had been the reason.

                I didn’t care too much about her sudden mood change; she was only an acquaintance after all.  I doubt she even knew my first name! So over the weekend I lost no sleep, not giving Maggie a second thought.  When I entered school on Monday and she wasn’t there, I barely noticed.  When she didn’t show up Tuesday, I took a quick mental note.   When she didn’t show up Wednesday or Thursday, I began to think about what could be wrong with her.

                Then Friday approached.  Ahh, Friday, the day where everything changed.

                I was feeling the need for a mental health day and told my parents in the morning I was feeling gross.  They went with business as usual, leaving the house early and entrusting me to keep the house safe. I played online chess for a couple hours, watched a documentary on Marco Polo, and was drawing anime when something started yelping outside my door.

                I live in a very safe neighborhood; it is rare when something even the slightest bit “rebellious” occurs.  One time last year an ambulance was driving by my house and I swear I got 13 messages of people checking up on my family to make sure everything was okay.  I was expecting the same yesterday as I looked out the window, waiting for people to dart out of their houses, ready to spring into action, but alas, no one was there. I looked out the window a little while longer, being stupidly curious as to what was going on. A few moments later I heard another yelp which eventually lead to a whine, triggering the cry of what I believed was a human.

                I really had no desire to leave my house un-showered and I was afraid I would lose my inspiration for this new anime creature I was drawing but I felt it was my “small town citizen” duty to help the person in need. I put on my Timberland boots and jogged out the front door, being careful not to slide on the ice that had gathered there over night.