Otis and Rita

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The young man watched the sun on its daily climb. He had spent the night on the cemetery hill, waiting for the solar crimson band to peak over the horizon and start the town’s day. The warm light bounced off the snow and registered in the lad’s eyes. But in those eyes there was no warmth. A long longing wracked the rib cage of the boy and drove his heart wild with pain. The girl he loved had never show. The obelisk had been the meeting spot, but now it served as a morose marker of deceased hope. He had met her a week prior. It was Jack’s party, a big one, thrown to celebrate the end of high school. When Otis walked into the party Jack was the first person to great him, a sloppily mixed drink clutched in the already too inebriated hand. Otis knew from the foot too short gaze in Jack’s eyes that soon care would be need to be given over a toilet bowl. Otis had never been a drinker. He could drink, and would drink, but always found that his drunk goggles’ prescription didn’t quite suit his style. As Jack clasped his hand on the back of Otis’ neck, Otis embraced his long time friend and gave him a slight heave to separate the floor and the soles. Drunken shrill squeals emanated from Jack’s mouth and drew the attention of the surrounding crowd; amongst whom she was standing. The part of her hair gave birth to a running red river, so deep and rich and full of life it could call to mind in certain individuals of a sanguine cascade down stairs. The shape of her forehead, coupled with the delicate white of her skin, cast upon the room like a crescent moon. Then her face, the most angelic face, one of innocence and childhood ardor, had hints of lust carved into the creases around the eyes and besetting the lips. Her eyes were what she unaf... ... middle of paper ... ...lost in a dark fog, one through which the brightest and most joyous hope could never dream to pierce. He didn’t find her. She had ducked out the back while he was pushing through a crowd of friends, and gotten into he friends car. She hadn’t even seen him fully, only remembering the guy that lifted the host off the ground. To her this was a party she had no place at. Her friend had dragged her along and only conceded to leaving after incessant nagging by Rita. Down the night-shaded road the drove, away from Otis, yet still always heading right for him. When Otis got back from Jack’s that night, he fell right into his bed and passed out. He had drank a little more that he had initially intended to and now, his drunken fever dreams rolled the image of the girl in his head over and over. He never found out her name; he as sure that he would never encounter her again.

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