Sometimes you find comfort in the dark. – The Word Alive
I sat in the “teen corner” of my local library. I was no longer a teen, but I could wish, right? Being twenty was far from fun. Plus, multiple outlets and comfortable couches to lounge on? Heaven. I laid back on the couch, clicking away on my keyboard trying to convince myself that my sociology paper wasn’t going to write itself. Though, explaining the sociological concepts of a prison seemed far less interesting than all of the books around me that I was itching to read. For some people, reading worked their brain. For me, it was a way to relax, escape my reality, and avoid adultly duties.
Whenever people talk about how much fun college is, they mean ‘universities’. Community college was either where you went because you didn’t know what to do with your life, or you didn’t have the funds to study what you want. If it were completely possible for me, I’d be a veterinarian. Or maybe a professional photographer for a band. Either way, in a small town like this, that wasn’t possible. I’d have to travel south to a bigger town with higher rent and go through the motions of finding another job. So I’m doing the next best thing. Dental Hygiene. So exciting. Who would believe that teeth were my passion?
Blah, blah, Marx, blah, hierarchy, blah. Blah.
A DVD dropped at my feet. And once I looked up, I realize it was on purpose. Razal stood in front of me with her hand on her hip and her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her curly blonde hair was tucked up in a bun and she did not look happy.
“Did you know about this?” She exclaimed, plopping down on the seat opposite of me.
“Know about what?”
“That there was a third in the series! Come on, you know I loved the last ones and by the way the director made it, I thought they were so over.”
“Raz, you would have known that wasn’t the case if you would read the books like I keep telling you to. The movies are utter garbage. I mean, look at that cover! It’s photoshopped beyond belief and they look like porn stars. The books were barely intimate!”
She shook her head. “Will, when will you learn that sex sells? You can’t please half the population by making some mystery movie where the chick never even kisses a guy. I mean, really.”
Sometimes, I couldn’t understand how we were even friends. We were so different and constantly bickering. But then I remembered she’s the only one who didn’t shun me when I was weird or acting obsessed. She didn’t approve, but she didn’t leave, either. I guess I should be grateful she was still around. Sure, it would be nice to have a friend that understood what my squeals meant, or could share the experience of nearly dying just by looking at my favorite singer or actor. I didn’t like them based on looks, but based on talent. Raz drooled over the men who had muscles the size of my torso and were ten feet tall. So naturally, she wouldn’t understand any of the people I fangirled over.
I rolled my eyes and started putting my stuff into my backpack.
"Are you ready to go?" I asked Raz.
"Duh," she said, drawing out the syllable. "Let's just get this over with. I can't believe my mom is making me go. I didn't even know the guy!" She huffed and puffed all the way to my Grand Cherokee.
"It's a funeral. How bad can it be? Especially if you didn't know him? At least we won't cry."
Raz's mom's uncle had died a few weeks ago. Whenever her mom talked about him, she had an icy tone and would just say he was 'troubled'. Which was partly why Raz was so mad that they were going. Who goes to a funeral for a man they didn't like?
