Silver Bullet

It’s too sunny to go out right now, and I hate heat. That’s what I tell myself but I’ve been laying in this position since this morning and it was probably actually nice out before noon.
The truth is I’m wasting my summer away like I made someone a bet that I’d be the best summer waster the world has ever known.
I didn’t by the way, bet someone, I mean. If I had done this though? I would’ve won by now. Such is my level of awesomeness in regards to emptying my time stores without actually accomplishing a damn thing.
I think the fact that we have time stores just annoys me..so maybe I’m rebelling against society or the fact that my family at least will never run out of time. Honestly though, I’m just a spoiled rich kid whose boyfriend is out of town til next month. Nothing’s really ever felt important enough to me to make me care about it though…not even him.
I have a few girl friends that I could call but I know that they’re still pissed at me for blowing them off the last time they wanted to go shopping.Shopping is boring and my closets are so full they’re throwing clothes up at me whenever I try to take something out. I laugh to myself at the idea of having a bulimic closet.
I’m bored now though..bored enough to sit up and possibly even stand up.
My head spins telling me that I’ve made this movement way too quickly so I sit again and ignore the pull to just lie back down again.
I stand again, this time much more slowly, I  wait and there is no dizziness this time so I walk over to my window.
The crazy lady next door is emptying out her garage, literally pulling out bags and bookcases and lining one side of the driveway with them. It’s so hot that I can feel the heat coming in through the glass at me like an angry hiss and I shake my head wondering why on earth someone would actually choose to be out in it.
Ms. Simmons is her name and she pulls out one last box now, opens it and then rubs her head full of curlers so roughly that a few fall out of her hair and onto the ground. She looks back to her garage and then back at her collection of things and then walks the the very beginning of the line and starts looking into the bag there, pulling things out and laying them on the grass.
Huh, I think, wonder what the bag has lost. She looks frantic but kind of funny in her silver bedroom slippers with pink pom pom dotting the toes and a matching robe of some sort of synthetic and slinky material. It’s around four o’clock you’d think she’d have put some actual clothes on and then tut at myself, let her not wearing Rainbow Brite  jim jams cast the first stone and all that.
A screeching car catches my attention and the speeding silver car turns my head to follow it. The car drives into Ms. Simmons drive way at an angle to avoid the line of junk and a tall guy in a suit steps out.  The guy is raising his arms at her and she starts to shake her head. He’s angry now I mean I can’t hear them but I can tell angry when I see it, he’s all puffed out chest and pointing a finger into her chest, she looks like she’s crying.
I’m getting angry now, I mean I don’t like Ms Simmons, she’s weird and nosy and is always knocking on our door for no good reason, but heck if some guy  is going to get away with making her cry in broad daylight.

It occurs to me to maybe call the cops or something.  I look down at my bedside table looking for my cell phone but I don’t see it. It should be there because I actually charged it last night so I look behind the table and see it there between the table and the wall. A slamming door draws my eyes upward before I can reach it though and I think that maybe I won’t need it anymore-the guy is getting back into his car.
That’s actually a relief because I wasn’t honestly up to dealing with any of this. Not the call to the cops, not them questioning me about things later.

I go ahead and fetch the phone out anyway and then look over at Ms. Simmons again. She’s just standing there wiping eyes and her nose with her hand then her forearm. I think about how small and vulnerable she looks in that instance and a pang of guilt washes over me. She looks up then and noticing me at the window picks up a hand and waves at me. I lift my hand to wave back  right as I see a silver flash of something run into her, back up and then drive away.

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