#2 Pest Control

A tear fell from my brown eyes, the only part of my face not covered by makeup. The only part of my face that reaches the world in its natural state. The tear carried a streak of pastel down my face, and dropped onto my pillow, leaving a colorful spot on my white pillowcase. I look up at my wall. My wall of Polaroids, showing all my memories from high school with my friends. My friends smile at me from the photos. I saw one photo of my friends and I in the park late at night. That was the night we broke the slide at Howell Park. We thought it was so funny at the time, to mess things up around the city. It’s kind of sad how selfish that was.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Someone started banging on my door, and I hesitantly got up to answer. Lately the Victorian has been overridden by pests; not the common house-rats or cockroaches, but by a rabid pack of reporters. I opened the door to a reporter who promptly invited himself in. I told him to get out and he said he would if he just got one quote from me.

“What do you like about this town?”

What do I like about this town? I thought about the buildings. Old and weathered, as if they were ready to fall at any moment. I thought about my school. Uninterested teachers, droning away at mindless classes. Then I thought about my friends. Selfish, doing whatever they can to get ahead. I thought about why I even stick around with them, because they sure as hell didn’t stick around with me. After my scaring experience last week, my friends didn’t even care what happened to me. They just wanted to party more like nothing happened. I thought about--

“Umm, hello? What do you like about this town?” The reporter snapped me out of my train of thought with his question.

“Oh yeah, I like... I like the trees.”

“Alright thanks, finally someone who cooperates in this damned city.”

The reporter left my apartment, slamming the door as a parting sign of self-importance.

I looked back up at my wall of memories, printed on paper and coated with the thinnest layer of glossy plastic. A different photo jumps out at me. It was of my friend stealing beer from the back of Pat’s Drugstore.

I need new friends.