Garry Jefferson hated his stay-at-home job. Day in and day out, he read and re-read essays written by illiterates hoping to scrape up a grade in his Psychology class. Fortunately, he never saw the acne pocked faces of the students he graded, and he could only imagine the facial horrors that roamed Blue River Community College’s halls. Blue River was a small town in central Colorado, inhabited by filthy rich old folk, and their grandchildren. The streets were clean, but the buildings that flanked the pavement were as dirty as could be. Inside the stone monoliths existed drug operations, brothels, cult gatherings, you name it. When the sun set is when the roles reversed, the filth being purged from their halls by police, and their hired mercenaries. …show more content…
He drew a mental blank, but considered everything that could have happened. Did she hit him? No, that was impossible, she loved him so much. Setting the can and its opener down, Garry went to his bedroom. It was, for a lack of better words, a pigsty. Dirty clothes littered the floor like one of those ice cream sundaes Garry loved to get at the corner store, covered in sprinkles, chocolate sauce and a cherry on top. However, the Garry-Jefferson-bedroom-sundae was sprinkled with loose papers, splotched with ink and vandalized by a mad pen. He fought through the dunes of clothing, eventually reaching his bed, and tore the pillows off, searching underneath them for his journal. To his relief, he found it, tucked into the pillowcase of his second pillow. The journal was tattered and worn, the corners of the pages barely hanging on due to constant dog-earing of the pages. About halfway through the journal, he stopped leafing through the pages to find a title page labeled “Peaches”. Stopping for a moment to admire his art, he turned the page, and read quickly, down the point he had drawn his blank. That’s funny, he thought, it doesn’t even go like that. The memory began to play again in his head. -Running over to her side, he notices that she holds a can wrapping in yellow paper, and an opener is clutched in her left hand. She turns to him, and smiles widely- Garry snapped out of it again. The smile in the memory didn’t seem right, it appeared off. He fudged the memory slightly, the smile becoming more comforting, but seeming slightly false. -and smiles