Dreds
Devin Allen

According to the Mayans, the world was supposed to end in 2012, but for Caroline Hamilton the apocalypse came four years early. She had a paper due the next day, three major tests to cram for, and to top it off, the dorm had run out of toilet paper. This was beyond stress. The only redeeming aspect of the stretched, hazy day was the fact her boyfriend of two years was currently rushing through jam-packed traffic to see her. She could imagine him, hunched over the steering wheel, emerald eyes trained on the line o cars that dotted across the highway and continued forever - paint jobs reflecting the sun, which set low in a blood-red sky. Occasionally, he’d throw calloused hands into the air, his face contorting into an angry mask before he slammed down on his horn. She smiled at the thought and then groaned at the slow progress that she’d made on her “important” college paper; for some reason, she seriously doubted that any future employers would care about the complete analysis of the New Testament. It was nearing seven o’ clock. Where I the world was Davis?

Tenseness settled in, gripping strands of her brunette locks and ruining her perfect ponytail. Glasses slid to the bottom of her nose, and eyes flicked across the sea of papers she’d spread across the floor. An exasperated sigh escaped her, and soon, she was drowning in the archaic words of the New Testament.

Davis ran up the stairs of Caroline’s dormitory, visitor pass and spare key dangling around his neck. After what seemed an eternity, he’d managed to escape unbelievable traffic. He wondered I there had been other boyfriends rushing to see their girlfriends as well, writhing in anticipation as he had been. He’d parked less than five minutes ago, and after sprinting through a concrete jungle, complete with a maze of cars and official looking buildings, he was already heaving for each breath. The oversized sleeves of his trademark jacket flapped as he pumped arms up and down, thick legs pounding against the asphalt; two flights of stairs later, he was exhausted, claws trying to tear out from his burning sides. Fitting the key into the lock of his girlfriend’s door, he opened it unceremoniously, and shed the thick, suede jacket Caroline bought him for Christmas one year, allowing it to drop to the floor in a pool of fabric.

“Hey babe,” he greeted cheerfully, albeit out of breath. “God, I really have to go the bathroom. It’s amazing how quickly a drink goes through you when you’re sitting in traffic for like, five hours.” And then he saw her face, lips curled into a crumpled frown and eyes glistening with tears; a few teardrops rolled off splotched cheeks.

“GOD, Davis, do you have to be so inconsiderate?!” she wailed angrily. In a split-second, he’d joined her on the floor amidst strewn papers, pulling her into his lap, arms snaking around her in a comforting embrace; immediately, his lips found their way to her ear.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered soothingly.

Her body shuddered with sobs yet released, as she breathed deeply in hopes of regaining composure. “The test and the paper and the psychology and western philosophy and and and and this and only two pages! AND TOILET PAPER!” The stream of incoherent babbling was coupled with sniffles and bawls, to which Davis responded to with comforting fingertips that smoothed out disheveled brown hair.

He blinked, speaking before he could decipher the jumbled mess of words. “Well, uh, ‘m here?” he offered shakily, with a hopeful smile.

Her deflated frown rose slightly as a half-laugh, half-sniff was emitted. “Yeah,” she said, faltering poise returned. Moments of silence followed, and he refused to let her go. Finally, randomly, she asked, “Babe, would you grow dredlocks for me?” Her voice was sharp with upset. Davis ran a hand through his short, shaggy brown hair, knowing that this question was either a test of the strength of their relationship or a personal attack on his (what he called handsome) appearance. He decided to go with “test”.

Chuckling, and glad to have clamed her down somewhat, he responded with a sheepish, “Yeah, anything for you.”

She laughed along, and could feel some of her former stress wither away.

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Written for my "non-descript" writing class. Review now plz?