( @grazeddoll )
for once in his life, sasha’s five minutes early; he figures grazer won’t mind the punctuality, not when the alternative is more time at her mothers house. parking halfway down the street makes him feel like a teen again, sneaking from house to house to shake shack to the arcade. doesn’t make much of a difference that the old car is his now, rather than his stepbrother’s– he never did manage to get the finch high school wrestling bumper stickers off, and the smell of cinnamon air freshener can only go so far in a vehicle that’s on its fourth owner. if he presses his face to the headrest he can still smell his misspent youth, rubber soles and grass stains from his step-siblings; dog hair from his mom’s old border collie. stale weed and french fries from his friends.
i’m down the block, he texts. navy station wagon, wooden panels.
being back in town is less nostalgic than it is unsettling, like seeing an image in a mirror but– twisted. something off in the smile. to be fair, everything’s felt a little like that, in the year since he dropped out of college and slunk home with his tail between his legs. he keeps waiting for some new normal to settle in, turn the dial down on all the damn uncanny bullshit. so far, it hasn’t happened.
sasha rolls down his window– manual crank, of course– when he sees a familiar figure approaching. drapes one hand out in a slow wave. “didn’t mean to make you walk, kid, but i figured your mom’s been counting her blessings since the last time i stopped coming ‘round, so. no need to test her faith again, yeah?” and he’s a gentleman, so he leans over the center console to open the passenger side door for her; nevermind that the unlock all button only works half the time. “so. is this a situation for a ‘welcome back’, or...”