Broken People by Scott Hildreth Page B

flowers, and sees the boy with the case. “Wha t is it, Marc?” the girl asks.
    The boy, without speaking, hands her the note, and lifts the leather divider. Hundred dollar bills, tightly bound, and marked by $10,000 bands, fill the case. A key on a necklace lay on top of the money. The boy closes the case, and checks the key. The key operates the two locks of the case. The boy sets the key aside. The boy counts. Left to right, top to bottom, and lifts the bills, checking the depth.
    “It appears to be about $900,000, if this is marked correctly. Nine times two. Eighteen times five. Yes, nine hundred thousand dollars. Did you read the note?” He responds. Leaving the case open, the boy stands and walks toward her.
    “Yes, I did,” s he responds, handing the note back to him.
    The boy takes the note, and places it in the case. The boy closes the case, takes the key, locks the case, and places the key, held by the necklace, around the neck of the girl. The key hangs between her breasts, hidden by the black dress that she was wearing.
    Embracing the girl, the boy looks into the girl ’s eyes. They kiss. “I love you,” The boy, looking into the girl’s eyes again, leans back, runs his hands along the girl’s face, and through her hair.
    “I love you back,” the girl responds.
    Time passes. The train stops. The couple, standing together, looks outside the train door. On the left, they see a beach. On the right, they see a hill with a large sign on the side. The sign is one they have seen before, and clearly marks their new location: ‘HOLLYWOOD’ . They step off of the train, briefcase in hand, and begin to walk toward the beach…..
    I turned and looked at my watch. 6:05 am. I got up out of bed, walked into the kitchen, and read the newspaper. I finished my coffee, and ran my hands through my hair. I will spend the rest of my life with t his girl. One way or another. We had what it would take to survive anything.
    Love that just is.

Chapter 7
    Cups
     

DA VID. Sometimes when I woke up, I immediately felt like I wanted to go back to sleep and forget who I was. Other days, I felt like jumping out of bed and rushing through the day, eager to be me. Today was the latter. I woke up refreshed and ready to meet the day. It was sunny and it was Saturday. My parents were out shopping, and the day couldn’t be any better. Being home alone could be so satisfying. One of the advantages, I suppose, of being an only child. I was planning on getting some exercise, taking a shower, and going to Cups for a frozen yogurt. This day was going to be grand.
    Throughout the m orning, I found it increasingly difficult to contain my excitement for the frozen yogurt. I just loved the yogurt, and loved the atmosphere. I wondered who may be there when I arrived. It was, of course, Saturday. On Saturday mornings, I would often see Michelle and her friend Brianna there. If they were there today, I would speak to her. Her eyes were so pretty. I have always felt that the eyes don’t lie. If someone smiles, and their eyes smile with them, they are truly smiling inside. The eyes don’t lie. Michelle’s eyes smiled with her. 
    As I made my bed, John Coltrane played. On Saturdays the wrinkles in my bed are more noticeable. The sun is up, and my room is much brighter. Brighter than the weekdays. Weekdays, when I get up and make my bed, it is much earlier. And dark. Today, the sunshine on the blanket made the wrinkles stand out like little valleys of wrinkled fabric. After a little more stretching and pulling than a normal weekday, I was off to Cups for a yogurt.
    Pulling my car into the parking lot of Cups, I saw a Camaro. I hoped it was Michelle’s, but I couldn’t remember what color her car was. I’m certain I have a brain tumor. A brain tumor would cause problems with my memory. I have a brain tumor. At such a young age. Walking into the store, I felt my head. It felt normal. Not enlarged. I should be a scientist. A fabric scientist. And