Miah and Kee

Jeremiah

It's early. Or late, depending on how you saw it, said Jeremiah's thoughts. During the school year, he'd be getting ready for school. Now, he's up because he learned how to force himself awake at exactly 3:30 to not need an alarm, and now he couldn't outgrow the habit. 

What now, echos the thought in his head. Starring at the ceiling of is room made him feel restless; he needed his have his hands on something, or his feet moving, or his head focused on something. That was the beauty of school, it at least gave the kids like him something to do during the day. But then night came, and so did the shadows. 

Jumping out of his bed, he turned on his light, the darkness dying out and being enveloped in light. Throwing on clothes; a black v-neck sweater, jean jacket, white pants that stuck to his waist but were baggy around his legs ad let him move freely, and flat checkered vans. On impulse, he gathered a few more things; his phone, wallet, two rings, and keys. The rings fit around each middle finger of both hands perfectly, one black with a C engraved on the ring, and the other with a W engraved into it. On his way out, he grabbed his skateboard. 

It wasn't cold, but the nighttime air did blow against his exposed skin. It's nice outside today, Jeremiah thinks while closing and locking his door behind him. His parents would question where he is when they woke up. Parent, he reminds himself. His mom, while asking him repetitively to call her husband "Dad," he still refuses too. I won't ever. I won't call a man my father when i know the feeling of his fist against my face and chest better than his embrace, the words go through his head as he lets skateboard drop below his right foot, and as he's done hundreds of times, he pushes off from the road, telling himself the tears falling from his eyes are from the wind ripping at his eye.