Don't Move

June 4, 2012
By Lupe Carlos BRONZE, Mountlake Terrace, Washington
Lupe Carlos BRONZE, Mountlake Terrace, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

She was torturing him, hopping back and forth like that. She knew perfectly well how it bothered him, and he knew the only reason she would be doing this action would be to bother him. He decided to look elsewhere, or what would be right through her. She was torturing him, but he knew she would eventually tire, as her extra weight would slow her down. It was hard for both of them in this world, and they only had each other.

Not being able to see movement past five miles an hour doesn’t seem so terrible when you look at it for the first time; unless it’s moving rather quickly. However, one has to weight the consequences. No driving. No sports. No life; not for a teenage boy.

His brain didn’t turn everything that moved black, but he saw right through it. His brain would replace the information with whatever would logically be behind the object in motion. Whenever his mother took him anywhere by car, all he could see was road, unless there were stopped or parked cars. One good thing did come out of his impediment, however. Imagine a loose strand of clothing on a female body that could end up going a little bit quicker than the body. Even though he knew it was imaginary, it helped ease the pain.

“Stop.” He told her.

“Why should I, if you get to make fun of me, I get to make fun of you,” She threw back at him. He honestly didn’t know why they were friends, other than the fact that they were the only ones who were ever there for each other, and that he was madly in love with her. He could never tell her, out of fear.

“But you’re not making fun of me; you’re just f***ing with me.”

She stopped when she could tell he was actually becoming upset. He eyed her subtleties when she blurred, then came into vision as she sat down. She had such wonderful subtleties, even if no one else saw them.

He never understood why nobody else liked him, even as a friend. He would never know of the rumors that passed around him, and about the annoyed looks he would get from students as he bumped into each and every one of them in his high school hallway. He hated his lot, but was forced to live with it.

The author's comments:
It just came to me.

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