He was bored at of his mind at work. But knew he had to pay bills. He so badly needed a new job. He worked with illiterates. He plugged away. He was upset that Miriam didn’t work out.
He thought she had potential. But she looked down on people. Or was it that she looked down on Alana? Marc should be able to handle that. But couldn’t. He had the pain in the neck on a pedestal. He needs to learn not do that. He does it too often.
He was wondering how Jen was doing. He whipped out his phone and decided not to text. But to dial.
“Hey, Jen, How are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m keeping myself busy. How are you and that lady you brought to Terminal Five getting along? She’s well dressed and pretty.”
“Thanks, Jen. It never amounted to anything. I’m not seeing her.”
“Let me guess, is it because she started with your goth girl?”
“I just didn’t like the way she looked down at her. How are you and that guy? You seemed happy with him. That’s nice.”
They chit chatted for a little while. Marc could tell he may have lost Jen. He had issues with women whose names began with “J”. Always did. Always will. One of his closest friends forbade him from being friends and/or dating females whose name started with that letter. Of course, he introduced him to his first “J”.
They wished each other well and hung up. Marc wondered if this was really it with Jen. It has happened before. Then she would call and ask him to meet for a drink. He went vice versa. Well, there’s always Alana. He knew she wouldn’t last a minute with the guy she brought to the concert.
He went home and went to the community center where he spends far too much time in. He loves it. But feels used. Things were going well until one of the crackpots had one his episodes. He felt. He often dated women like this.
The guy was out of control. He was making a real mess of what Marc worked so hard to set up. People were getting scared and leaving. Some threatened to the call the cops. But that would never happen.
Marc couldn’t risk showing his powers here. He cajoled the guy into leaving the building. The nut calmed down. But then swung his fists at Marc and pulled a butcher knife out from under his coat. He grazed Marc on the cheek.
Marc took one for the club. But was not going to take any more. The barley he shot was firm and stinging. He aimed very close and hit the guy in the shoulders. He didn’t want to hurt him. He knew he needed help. He just wanted to get him away. The guy ran down the block.
Marc went back downstairs and grabbed a slice. Everyone asked him if all was well. He smiled. The gathering continued.
Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc. 