Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sets of Three, They Say...
just to let you all know, this is supposed to be sort of abstract. like an actual individual talking. a lot of parallelism concering the title. notice that there are almost three everything. anyway, thanks for reading. please review.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
12:15
Push Play. Make sure Allison is watching, reading, retaining. Not too complicated, but still, not simple. 8 years old. Thrown against a wall by an angry stepfather. Hearing permanently stolen from her. The reason, really, why Meg did this job. She was only able to get through to students who had heard before, their stories, sad. Not one of them was deserving of how the story ends.
The boy. His glasses. Her Latte. Where was her mind today? At Kennedy, obviously. 1:00. Video over. Push stop.
"Thank you, Allison. Good job. Send Taylor, please." Meg had squatted a little as she slowly signed to the young girl. The dainty blonde lifted her little fingers topped by dirty fingernails to reply.
"He's not here today. Sick, I think." Meg thanked the girl, and sent her back to class.
1:04. Home. Nothing else to take care of today. Meg collected her purse, her laptop, for this evening, her mug of stale coffee, and went to talk to Mal.
Meg knocked on Mal's door. With a phone pressed between her shoulder, and her ear, she waved Meg in with a pen in hand.
"Yes, Mrs. Montgomery...Of course...we'll schedule appointments right away. Not, thank you. Uh-huh. Goodbye." She slammed the phone down, Meg oblivious as to why.
"Bitch." Mal signed forcefully. Meg laughed and handed Mal the tickets. The downloadable, printable version, of course.
"I couldn't pass them up. Tomorrow. The Metro. I know you'll go." Meg signed quickly, and leaned back. Mal smiled and lifted her hands.
"You don't have to do this for me. I know you don't enjoy it." Meg stood up and grabbed Mal's hands, cutting her off.
"You provide me with a source of income. This is the least I can do." Meg smoothed her skirt, and placed her hands behind her back. Mal sighed.
"Okay. We'll go. But only because you're practically forcing me." Meg clapped and Mal shook her head, smiling slightly.
"My only other appointment for the afternoon is sick at home, I'm heading out. I love you. I'll call you after I leave Kennedy." She signed, and before Mal could ask questions, she turned and left.
Sleep. Dreaming. Not of the boy in the hat. His glasses. Her Latte. Not of those things. No, Meg dreamed of colors, sounds, melodies. Music. Things she would never know. Rarely did she ache for these mysteries, but in this deep sleep, she was aching for noise to her very core.
A startling vibration broke Meg's Sleep. Her phone. Set to vibrate, as powerful as a lawn mower. Who would sleep through that?
Not even a deaf person, Meg thought. She glanced at the clock by her bed. 4:35. Now, Meg was Kennedy bound.
The journey there was 10 minutes, more or less. Meg sat down, opened her laptop, Set up word. Patrick. Would he show? She'd been anticipating this all day. No high hopes. Only low expectations. But that still counted as some.
Meg walked to the kid with the red hair.
"Note?" She scribbled on a napkin. He read silently, then shook his head. She nodded and mouthed "thank you" as she made her way backwards to her table.
Meg took a seat. As she glanced at the right-hand corner of her computer screen, she sighed. 4:55. All up to Patrick. His hat. His glasses. Not so much her latte.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
12:15
Push Play. Make sure Allison is watching, reading, retaining. Not too complicated, but still, not simple. 8 years old. Thrown against a wall by an angry stepfather. Hearing permanently stolen from her. The reason, really, why Meg did this job. She was only able to get through to students who had heard before, their stories, sad. Not one of them was deserving of how the story ends.
The boy. His glasses. Her Latte. Where was her mind today? At Kennedy, obviously. 1:00. Video over. Push stop.
"Thank you, Allison. Good job. Send Taylor, please." Meg had squatted a little as she slowly signed to the young girl. The dainty blonde lifted her little fingers topped by dirty fingernails to reply.
"He's not here today. Sick, I think." Meg thanked the girl, and sent her back to class.
1:04. Home. Nothing else to take care of today. Meg collected her purse, her laptop, for this evening, her mug of stale coffee, and went to talk to Mal.
Meg knocked on Mal's door. With a phone pressed between her shoulder, and her ear, she waved Meg in with a pen in hand.
"Yes, Mrs. Montgomery...Of course...we'll schedule appointments right away. Not, thank you. Uh-huh. Goodbye." She slammed the phone down, Meg oblivious as to why.
"Bitch." Mal signed forcefully. Meg laughed and handed Mal the tickets. The downloadable, printable version, of course.
"I couldn't pass them up. Tomorrow. The Metro. I know you'll go." Meg signed quickly, and leaned back. Mal smiled and lifted her hands.
"You don't have to do this for me. I know you don't enjoy it." Meg stood up and grabbed Mal's hands, cutting her off.
"You provide me with a source of income. This is the least I can do." Meg smoothed her skirt, and placed her hands behind her back. Mal sighed.
"Okay. We'll go. But only because you're practically forcing me." Meg clapped and Mal shook her head, smiling slightly.
"My only other appointment for the afternoon is sick at home, I'm heading out. I love you. I'll call you after I leave Kennedy." She signed, and before Mal could ask questions, she turned and left.
Sleep. Dreaming. Not of the boy in the hat. His glasses. Her Latte. Not of those things. No, Meg dreamed of colors, sounds, melodies. Music. Things she would never know. Rarely did she ache for these mysteries, but in this deep sleep, she was aching for noise to her very core.
A startling vibration broke Meg's Sleep. Her phone. Set to vibrate, as powerful as a lawn mower. Who would sleep through that?
Not even a deaf person, Meg thought. She glanced at the clock by her bed. 4:35. Now, Meg was Kennedy bound.
The journey there was 10 minutes, more or less. Meg sat down, opened her laptop, Set up word. Patrick. Would he show? She'd been anticipating this all day. No high hopes. Only low expectations. But that still counted as some.
Meg walked to the kid with the red hair.
"Note?" She scribbled on a napkin. He read silently, then shook his head. She nodded and mouthed "thank you" as she made her way backwards to her table.
Meg took a seat. As she glanced at the right-hand corner of her computer screen, she sighed. 4:55. All up to Patrick. His hat. His glasses. Not so much her latte.
Sign up to rate and review this story