A Great Hero

Stalked

            The whisper of the wind evoked a melancholy vibe into the sorrowful streets. The dark red bricks on the walls of the buildings were covered with gum and filth. Some were spray painted with Spanish words and local gang names such as 'The Plebs'. On the road, cars honked at each other, thinking it would speed up the slow traffic they were doomed to be patient in. A young man wearing a dark red trench coat stared at the traffic, and chuckled as he entered a dark alley where the scent of marijuana was strong. He walked and entered through a backdoor into a small building which was his home and jumped on the nearby couch and sighed heavily.

In the small living room was another young man who was staring outside from the window. No doubt he saw his roommate walk into alley. He took a sip from his water bottle, expecting a new taste, but only disappointing himself. Insanity, he thought. He spoke to his roommate who crashed on the couch, "Bryce, what's wrong? Rejected again?" He was about to laugh at Bryce, but he reminded himself. Who are you to laugh when all you do is push people away?

The young man replied, "Look at you, James, the goddamn psychic. Do you know how many times I went back in time to alter the conversation in the hopes that she'd say yes? About ten times!"

Bryce was convinced it just wasn't meant to be. James thought Bryce was simply terrible at talking to women. The hopeless romantic and the cynic, a great detective sitcom, thought James as he chuckled at the silly idea.

James had a well-groomed beard, whereas Bryce only had a stubble. James stood at 5'10, Bryce was only a mere 5'5. James was quick to point out the negative parts to any situation, often seeing the worst of humanity as well, and Bryce remained being the optimistic one.

James sat on the chair in front of his desk, which was conveniently in front of him. He worked on paperwork the government issued him. It was mandatory or else the FBI would have no choice but to apprehend them and use their bodies for scientific research. James had to report how much they ate, slept, shat, and spoke. His mind began to drift to memories of high school English class where they read 1984.

Bryce gave a quick glance to James and decided to not bother him. He went back outside, breathing in 'fresh' air. The memories of the bus crash flashed back into his eyes. He shook his head. Maybe if I had done something, he thought, she'd still be here. He walked through the alley and noticed three thugs beating up a high schooler. Bryce froze in place, and kept moving, fear driving him. I'm not a hero from a comic book, I'm just your ordinary citizen,

He walked out of the alley and into the street, disappearing into the crowd of men and women.

II

Tyrone had a dark complexion and was the taller than Bryce and James. He was also the most muscular, and the most gentleman like. James was very capable at getting romantic opportunities but failed to keep them alive. Bryce's eyes told the ladies the truth of the pain he carried, and they walked away from the self-destructive man.

Tyrone stood at the checkout aisle of the supermarket. He wore casual dark blue jeans, a tight red elastic shirt, and blue tennis shoes. The cashier called next, and he walked up to the conveyer belt and placed the current month's groceries. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed a young Asian woman gazing at him with a creepy smile. He smiles and waved.

The cashier asked in a depressing tone, "Will this be all sir?"

Tyrone replied, "Yes! And how are you today, sir?"

"Same old usual. Just clocking the hours for a check that keeps me alive," he said with half opened eyes. The cashier scanned the items and quickly bagged them. He touched the monitor in front of him which began to display a price, '56.65'. "Fifty-six sixty-five."