Locked out: a short story


“Mom is staying here till I’m finished, go over to Mark’s.” read the text message.

She could have left a key under the doormat or in the mail box. No, I guess not. Hans ran his fingers along his dirty knees as he sat on the luscious grass of the soccer field, now a murky, dark green as the night began to settle and the sun bade goodbye to the world. Lights flooded faraway portions of the park as parents cheered on their children’s vicious game of soccer.

20 minutes later, Hans stood in front of his door in darkness, only broken by the dim street lamps and the noise of the occasional car driving by.

I guess I should ring the bell or kick the door. Nothing. I guess I should call the house phone. Still nothing. Great.

He could have gone to Mark’s, or Sally’s or Jordan’s. Despite his spoiled clothes he would have been welcomed. But the truth was, he really didn’t like people: talking, socializing, that sort of thing. Even his best friends. He would not “crash” anywhere without a reason. That was Hans. And he couldn’t change that. No fault of theirs, rather, it was Hans. Everyone thinks I’m such a kind, good boy. They don’t know what I am what really like.

So he did what his logical brain suggested to him as the only viable option, grab a chair and sit outside the door with a gigantic frown.

The mosquitoes launched a brutal assault on his bare legs and before he knew it, he could feel his ankle and shin burning from the bites.

Goddamit, this isn’t going to work he thought. So Hans got up from the chair, sore all over, and limped about.

I’ll take a walk- That’s what he did. The night was humid, yet cool, the streets were empty and the side-walks hidden here and there by the dark shade of silent trees. Hans was too busy gritting his teeth at the pain in his abdomen however, so he could not absorb the beauty of the night.

Suddenly, a silver car – gleaming fiercely as the street lamps radiated their lights onto it’s perfectly polished body – parked well ahead of Hans. The lights were bright and for a moment, flooded the night until the parked car in front limited their range. Hans still gritted his teeth. There was a click, a sigh, and the car door opened lazily.

By the time Hans had reached the car, the man had turned a bend in the road and was gone, but the lights of his car remained alight. I should tell him thought Hans. He kept walking and suddenly saw the shape of the man in the distance, his body radiating a yellow light (or maybe it was just the street lamp).

I should tell him. But I don’t really care. It’s not my car. I should tell him though, it’s just the right thing to do. Hans chuckled loudly at that. When have you ever been concerned about the right thing to do? Ok I’m a psychopath. Hans approached closer and closer to the man and a sudden primal instinct clicked in his brain and word, sincere of purpose, were uttered from his lips.

“Excuse me sir!” he roared. “You left your car light on!”

Goddamit, you just had to make a scene he thought. The man stopped walking and hurried towards Hans.

“Thank you!” he said hurriedly “But they go off by themselves.” He smiled a white, toothy smile.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! “Hans said like a complete idiot.

“Don’t be! Thank you anyway!” said the man and with a last smile and a wink, he turned his back on Hans and disappeared into a cul-de-sac. There he goes. I try to do something genuine and I blew it, Hans thought.

So he took slow, tedious steps towards home, head low, hot in shame and seething embarrassment.

I really can’t deal with people he reflected, and the sad part is, it’s not even their fault.


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