I am 22 years old. I have no memory of my parents as a child and no idea who or where they might be. I lived with an older woman when I was younger but even that didn’t last. She passed me on to foster care and I bounced from one family to another like a pinball until an incident caused that dismal little game to crash, to an end. The day of the incident I left and never turned back.I work a minimum wage grind at a grubby diner and when I manage to find the time I study astronomy after hours. All this could quite possibly change with a snap of the fingers – the fingers belonging to this guy who walked in for a weak coffee and greasy fries. He came over and made an offer. He spoke and I listened. His speech wove one helluva tale. It presented a way out. A way that comes with a price.So here I am, gnawing on his words in my head. Going over everything he said, replaying it and hitting rewind, again and again. And I just can’t shake it. This deal of his. The idea that there is something just around the corner, something more to this nine to five drudge. His planted seed and the twisting words. The door cracking open to something else. Something more than just being, ‘me’. Still even with this ‘deal’ of his I can’t help but feel my life is not aligned. I can sense it, this alternative to my existence.
