Unknown Title

Jeffery

The night stabbed with a bitter sharpness that was cold, but with with spite intertwined. The frigid air blew threw the quiet town, blowing what little leaves fell at this late into the year. The quiet ambience of the middle of the night was juxtaposed by the harsh weather.

Standing in the middle of this weather, being nearly as cold as the town he was walking through, was Jeffery Stone. The lanky seventeen-year-old ran his finger nervously through his chestnut hair, appearing as though he were lost. This wasn't entirely true, but the emotion was perfectly suited for the events at hand.

He shuddered, for the wind had blown his coat open for a brief enough instance to chill him temporarily to the bone. He trudged onwards, knowing not where he was going. In fact, all that he did know was what he was leaving: his home.

The tension in his house between him and his father had reached a boiling point, and after a screaming match that left both of their voices shot, he left with only his clothes on his back, and no plans to return.

He thought longingly of his friends, what few of them he did have, as well as his mother, who died just three years prior of lung cancer. He recalled fondly of her flowing strawberry-blonde hair, and then quickly shook it out of his mind.

She's gone now, he thought to himself, so there's no real point of thinking of her. He pulled his jacket closer against his body and continued onward, thinking now that he would head to the bus station.

Despite it being the middle of December, there was no precipitation on the ground, and, in fact, an air of tranquility that seemed to envelope the entire town.

Jeffery finally reached the bus stop, and sat down on the cold metal bench. He pulled out his wallet and began counting out what little money he had.

Twenty-six dollars? It'll have to do, he thought to himself. Ever since things had gotten rough with him and his father, Jeffery did a lot of thinking, and not a lot of talking. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was the right decision for him. This town had nothing for him, so it'd be best for him to leave and go somewhere worthwhile.

After what seemed like hours, the the metallic squeak of the bus signalled its arrival, being followed by a long hiss. The doors rustily swung open, and a bus driver with a five o'clock shadow, who looked like he was running on cigarette smoke and coffee, eyed Jeffery up and down for a minute or so.

Then, in a gravelly voice, he asked, "Where ya headed to?"

"Anywhere but here," was Jeffery's tired reply. He walked up the dirty steps and slumped down on a squeaky, beat-up bench scribbled with graffiti and phone numbers.

He looked around; he was the only one on the bus. He closed his eyes; he just wanted to get out of here. The driver drove and drove, and eventually, Jeffery fell asleep.