• Weighted Zephyrs


    Kyle poked his pen against the blank paper in a monotonous, slow rhythm. His free hand ran itself through his hair, subconsciously. His mom was cooking downstairs, his little sister, helping. The aroma of her famous “Cheesy Potatoes” and “Potato Chip Chicken” wafted through Kyle’s window. What once would have filled Kyle with impatient hunger, now only left a faint mark in his apathetic nostrils. The Alabama scent which made his heart soar, now ignored. His homework finished, Kyle sat at his red desk to write... But what? Well, that was the question wasn’t it? What was he trying to write? He didn’t know. At this point, he didn’t think he wanted to. He crumpled the paper in his hand and listlessly tossed it over his shoulder. He laid his forehead on the desk, and sighed. But then, his heart quickened as his head spun. His eyes sped left and right rapidly as he viewed his sky walls. They all stared at him, some with malice, others with pity. Emma Stone hated his guts, while Slash shook his head, tisking. He clutched his head as Pancho Villa scorned him in Spanish. He sobbed when the Empire State Building collapsed in on itself. As all these began to blend into a pop culture stew, all voices and noise meshed, he clutched his ears.
    “SHUT UP!” He yelled at the top of his voice, nearly screaming. Then there was a silence. The posters resumed their original positions. Kyle’s mother cried.
    “Kyle! Kyle, are you okay?” Kyle looked around. He walked downstairs, and saw his mother holding a frightened Savannah.
    “Hey, sorry, I mrusta had a bad dream or summin.” Savannah let go and cautiously looked up at Kyle. His mother let out a small sigh of relief.
    “Oh, okay. I’m sorry, hon. Dinner’s ready. I know you love Mama’s chicken and potatoes.” She gave a sweet smile that tore Kyle’s heart. He could only muster a weak grin.
    “Ya, sure. Sounds great. I’ll set the table.”
    “Thank you.” She got the food out of the oven. Kyle walked over to the china cabinet. He got three plates and a Tupperware container. Dad would eat later, probably after Kyle and Savannah were in bed. Kyle prepared to set his plate down when he saw a twisted and mutilated version of his own countenance. Kyle gasped in horror and so the blue and white disk fell. It’s edge hit the table, from which it bounced making exponential 360’s. Then it crashed into the cherry floor, and burst into infintismal pieces. His mother jumped and Savannah screamed. Kyle just began to shake. His mother touched his shoulder, and he jumped back.
    “I gotta go.” He ran out the door to his mother’s yelling. He ran. He ran to nowhere and anywhere. This is all Jay’s fault, he thought. If it wasn’t for that two-faced, low life scum bag, none of these horrible things would have happened. Kyle’s arm began to itch and so he scratched. He hyperventilated. He couldn’t understand why he, a good looking jock, and a student in the top 10% of his school, did it in the first place. I guess I needed some stress relief. He found himself at the edge of park where he had first met his Angela. They played in the sandbox here as kids, and had their first kiss as teens here. He saw the red bench where he held her. He sat there and sobbed to himself. He had never meant to hurt her like this, had never meant to suck her in like this. And this morning, because of his stupidity, Angela was dead. Kyle sat there and held himself, crying all the more. He needed it and he needed it now if he was going to make it. He dug into his front pocket and pulled it, his best and only friend now. But as he looked at his true vice, that magical paper floated out. He caught it with his left hand and read it.
    “WHAT HAPPENED?” Story of my life, he thought bitterly. When he walked into Gov this morning, Neil greeted him.
    “Yo, bro, wus happenin?” He called and raised his hand for a high five. But Kyle walked right pass, and Neil knew something was wrong.
    “Dude, you left me hangin.” Kyle laid his head on his desk. Neil was about to announce his concern, when the teacher told them all to sit in their desks. For an hour, Kyle stayed like that. Neil ripped out a piece of paper and wrote on it. He passed it to Kyle. He stared at it and proceeded to fall asleep. He went to the nurse’s office after class, and complained that he felt ill. Because of the rarity of Kyle being in the nurse’s office, his mother came and picked him up. Now, as he sits there, staring at that piece of paper, he thinks. He stands up and places the paper on the bench’s backrest. His hand clutches his escape as he walks to the water fountain. Let the forgetting begin, he thinks as he swallows his gateway. Kyle Richardson collapses in the middle of the road half an hour later. He has had cardiac arrest. That paper sits on the bench, and flies away, searching for an answer to its existence.