spoke to him.
“You ok?”
Maybe she cared. Roger was humiliated, “It would help if you weren’t smirking,” he said as he blushed with embarrassment.
Roger placed a rag on his chin to catch the blood. Abigail drove him to the emergency room that night. As they waited in the waiting room, it was the first time she opened up and told him about the strange nightmares that were keeping her up at night. Her voice sang to him like a bird whistling at the morning sun after a night of thunderous rain. He didn’t have a more interesting story to share, so he just listened and there, he fell in love with her. He didn’t know if he was listening to her story or imagining himself kissing her on the cheek and neck, smelling her hair, and enjoying her body. Roger did, however grab enough information to understand why Abigail kept to herself. She was trying to set things straight in her mind. Half the time she was trying to put the pieces of her life together and just thinking. Frivolous conversations weren’t Abigail’s priority.
After Roger got six stitches in his chin, she drove him home. They sat outside in the car for hours as she gave him a more vivid description of some of her dreams. Roger’s eyes were open wide while listening to the details. He didn’t have a clue what they meant but was sure that having similar dreams over and over meant something important. He figured they must be connected. Write them down , he thought. Eventually he opened up to her about his ongoing experiments. She was actually interested and wanted to know more about them. He was honest with her that they didn’t work, but working on things made him happy. She thought it was cool.
The time was just past 2:30 in the morning. Roger had spent his night playing with a mini robotic device that he had built a few months earlier. It was supposed to be a prototype for an unmanned solar powered cargo transportation device that would safely and securely transport hazardous or sensitive material from one warehouse to another. If the smaller prototype worked, a larger one should work without a problem, or so he thought. No matter how many times he played with it, it kept overheating and sparking. He had reworked the design numerous times but the prototype would not travel more than three feet without a malfunction. He was getting bored with it so he turned on his laptop and checked his email. No new messages – in his Gmail account. He checked his Facebook account. He had a few spam posts on his wall and a few friend requests from fellow geeks from the Robotic Pulse fan page. He often posted his ideas and got feedback from other self proclaimed engineers and inventors. This is boring.
Roger left his room and went into the kitchen. On his way, he saw his mother asleep in the recliner with the TV still on. He walked into the room and turned off the set. He was careful not to wake his mother. Roger then went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He gulped it down quickly, went into the bathroom, urinated and went back to his room.
Finally, Roger pulled out his phone and sent Abigail a text message, “YOU UP, ELVIS?” She didn’t respond. Roger laid in his bed and closed his eyes.
“I can’t fucking sleep!”
Frankie was in his room doing pushups. He had a lot on his mind, starting with the fight club, Abigail, bills... He wanted to tell Larry that it was time to call it quits and just focus on legit business deals only. He and Larry argued about the state of the club five months earlier when the club cost Frankie a $20,000 payment to the Albano family.
One evening Mousy Albano had challenged Frankie to a fight. They had argued over a $2,500 debt Mousy owed Larry. Little by little, the argument got personal; and Mousy bet double or nothing that he could kick Frankie’s ass. Frankie hadn’t fought in a while but was sure he could win. By the end of the fight, Frankie had a fat lip and Mousy had a ride to the
“You ok?”
Maybe she cared. Roger was humiliated, “It would help if you weren’t smirking,” he said as he blushed with embarrassment.
Roger placed a rag on his chin to catch the blood. Abigail drove him to the emergency room that night. As they waited in the waiting room, it was the first time she opened up and told him about the strange nightmares that were keeping her up at night. Her voice sang to him like a bird whistling at the morning sun after a night of thunderous rain. He didn’t have a more interesting story to share, so he just listened and there, he fell in love with her. He didn’t know if he was listening to her story or imagining himself kissing her on the cheek and neck, smelling her hair, and enjoying her body. Roger did, however grab enough information to understand why Abigail kept to herself. She was trying to set things straight in her mind. Half the time she was trying to put the pieces of her life together and just thinking. Frivolous conversations weren’t Abigail’s priority.
After Roger got six stitches in his chin, she drove him home. They sat outside in the car for hours as she gave him a more vivid description of some of her dreams. Roger’s eyes were open wide while listening to the details. He didn’t have a clue what they meant but was sure that having similar dreams over and over meant something important. He figured they must be connected. Write them down , he thought. Eventually he opened up to her about his ongoing experiments. She was actually interested and wanted to know more about them. He was honest with her that they didn’t work, but working on things made him happy. She thought it was cool.
The time was just past 2:30 in the morning. Roger had spent his night playing with a mini robotic device that he had built a few months earlier. It was supposed to be a prototype for an unmanned solar powered cargo transportation device that would safely and securely transport hazardous or sensitive material from one warehouse to another. If the smaller prototype worked, a larger one should work without a problem, or so he thought. No matter how many times he played with it, it kept overheating and sparking. He had reworked the design numerous times but the prototype would not travel more than three feet without a malfunction. He was getting bored with it so he turned on his laptop and checked his email. No new messages – in his Gmail account. He checked his Facebook account. He had a few spam posts on his wall and a few friend requests from fellow geeks from the Robotic Pulse fan page. He often posted his ideas and got feedback from other self proclaimed engineers and inventors. This is boring.
Roger left his room and went into the kitchen. On his way, he saw his mother asleep in the recliner with the TV still on. He walked into the room and turned off the set. He was careful not to wake his mother. Roger then went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He gulped it down quickly, went into the bathroom, urinated and went back to his room.
Finally, Roger pulled out his phone and sent Abigail a text message, “YOU UP, ELVIS?” She didn’t respond. Roger laid in his bed and closed his eyes.
“I can’t fucking sleep!”
Frankie was in his room doing pushups. He had a lot on his mind, starting with the fight club, Abigail, bills... He wanted to tell Larry that it was time to call it quits and just focus on legit business deals only. He and Larry argued about the state of the club five months earlier when the club cost Frankie a $20,000 payment to the Albano family.
One evening Mousy Albano had challenged Frankie to a fight. They had argued over a $2,500 debt Mousy owed Larry. Little by little, the argument got personal; and Mousy bet double or nothing that he could kick Frankie’s ass. Frankie hadn’t fought in a while but was sure he could win. By the end of the fight, Frankie had a fat lip and Mousy had a ride to the
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