Doors [ h i a t u s ]

Short Story #504

[READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING BEFORE NEXT CHAPTER UPLOAD. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED DUE TO THE MAJOR PLOT HOLES YOU MAY FIND]

"People are like doors, really."

*

Greyson Montgomery, where do I begin? Greyson and I had been friends since the first day of kindergarten when we both had an intellectual argument about the brown colored pencil and how it is judged simply because it reminds others of feces. We believed that the brown colored pencil was wrongly misjudged because chocolate is also brown and people love the sugary goodness, yet we never go labeling chocolate as poop. That was the start of our beautiful friendship. I believed Greyson and I shared the same gift. He made me feel, well, not so different. Don’t get me wrong I never minded being the odd one out, but I had a friend who was just as much of an oddball as I and that was nice. That all changed the day Greyson decided to ditch me claiming I had cooties in the third grade, when we both knew what cooties actually were. Bugs. We did our research when the cootie epidemic broke out. Kids all across the country were claiming the other gender had ‘cooties’ it was quite a serious matter that we found necessary to know about.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” were the last words he said before he drifted away from me. We were nine at the time.

We hadn’t spoken in eight years after the tragic ending to our relationship and we steered clear of the other’s path. He found a group of imbecilic friends that he could ‘relate’ to and I, well, I was on my own. We had an unspoken agreement to stay out of the other’s way. He lived his life, I lived mine.

All that changed the minute he slid into the empty seat next to me after being introduced by our teacher. I’m not going to lie, Greyson Montgomery was a door, a very attractive door.

(He's not really a door, he's an actual person if that clears up any confusion. Door is just in reference to her analogy.)