EIGHTY-FOUR

He looked for the girl around the corner, but she’d already sped away on her bike. Her tire tracks through the mud told him that she must have peddled pretty hard. He wished he could run fast, but his leg was still hurting from the fight with his brothers the night before.

Petey wandered back into the woods, limped to the hole under the tree. As a wolf, he felt like there was no respect from humans. All he’d wanted was to play catch.

EIGHTY-THREE, 2.0

Her dancing is what convinced him that she was the one, that she’d be up to a challenge, and he only saw himself as a challenge. She was confident, and moved to her own rhythm, without care for the music or how he tried to keep up. He couldn’t keep up, not with his damn leg the way it was, plastic and rusty and full of disjointed, cobbled-together parts. Continue reading

EIGHTY-THREE

There was no coffee left in the pot. Not good. There were only the dregs, the unwanted coffee grounds that would never be fully consumed — and rightly so.

In those dregs he saw himself, a lower end of the totem pole kind of guy in the office. But like everyone else, he could see, on the horizon, the path to a better position.

But right now, Chris had to only worry about brewing a new pot of coffee to fill his boss’s mug.

EIGHTY-TWO, 2.0

Lana Warner was running late to class but she thought the students would forgive her. She was going to tell them there would be no test today, that they could discuss whatever they wanted, play games, whatever they’d like. This was her last day as a teacher, and the kids didn’t know it yet.

But they’d forgive her.

Sure, they’d probably miss her next week, and hate her for not telling them sooner. But eventually they’d come around. After all, it’s not every day that you could brag to your friends that the first woman to walk on the moon was once your middle school science teacher. Continue reading