I watched Kyle dully as he hand washed the dishes in the sink. I sighed and lounged over the back of the chair, staring at the back of his head.

“What do you want, Charcoal?” he asked, not turning around.

“You’re single.”

He turned to give me a raised eyebrow look. He’s really good at those. “Yeah. So?”

I shook my head and stared off into space, leaning heavily on my hand. I heard him sigh and turn back to the dishes. I waited until the water turned off from his now rinsing job before speaking again.

“Are you interested in anyone?”

He turned back to me again as he dried his hands on a towel. “No one in particular.”

I grinned. “Good.”

He didn’t say anything, knowing not to try and prevent my plotting, because it would happen anyway. I followed him up the stairs to his room. He started to put away clothes while I flipped through his iPod, changing the songs every few seconds. I finally settled on Blind Melon and lounged back on his bed, throwing socks at the back of his head when he turned away.

“What exactly do you want, Charcoal?” he asked, turning to me and crossing his arms, giving me an exasperated look.

“Entertainment,” I said, flipping over and burying my face in the pillow. “But you’re boring.”

“Yes, I know that. I like doing chores.”

“I think you have OCD.”

I heard him scoff and then leave the room. I threw my arms over my head. I felt a dip in the bed and glanced back to see Kyle giving me a funny look,

“What?” I asked, flipping back over.

“Why aren’t you with your boyfriend?” he asked.

“He’s busy today...” I muttered, annoyed.

“And you know that Kylie is more entertaining than me.”

“Eh.”

He gave me a flat look, arms crossed again. “Give me the real reason you’re here, Charcoal.”

We stared each other down for a few minutes before I caved. “Fine!” I snapped. “I’m setting you up with someone. End of story.”

Kyle smacked his forehead with a hand. I rolled my eyes at his dramatic gesture.

“Go home, Charcoal.”

I sighed and pushed myself up, stalking out of his room. I heard him laugh behind me.

“Bye, Ky-Ky!” I sang before running out of the house before he could kill me.

--

Do you have a theme song? I like to think I have a theme song. A series of epic notes following my every move. Since I don’t know what it is, and I fail at writing songs, I try and pick one that’s my song.

My theme song, I’ve decided, is ‘Revolution’ by the Beatles.

Why? I am different. I like men, for one. I’m a fashion designer and long distance runner. I’m very capable of taking care of myself, and I pack a nice punch. I work at the art center in summers, and a martial arts studio in the fall and winter. I use large words and confuse people for the sake of confusing them. I don’t have any particular religious views, not really thinking about it much.

I’m a revolution. I am the future. I am me.

There’s nothing anyone is going to do about that.

--

I listened to Green Day as I drove down the highway at a fast pace, a frown set on my face. I hummed along quietly with Working Class Hero, watching the world fly by me. Phone off. Wallet in back pocket. Ready to get out of here.

I thumped my hands on the steering wheel as the drums started up. I felt the lyrics catch in my throat, and the humming turned into my soft singing, growing louder as I got pulled into the music.

I pulled over at a gas station, turning down the music and stepping out to fill up. I gazed out over the landscape around me. A very small town, nothing big. Probably a nice ski town in the winter. The easy mountain breeze stirred my hair as I paid for the gas. I climbed back into the car, rolling down all the windows as the next song flipped on.

I do this sometimes. I’ll just disappear off the face of the earth for a weekend. It’s rare, but known to happen. I asked my boss for the weekend from the art center, and let my friends, family, and Dante know I would be gone for a few days. I provided no reason. I like to believe I’m old enough to make my own decisions by now.

Thoughts crowded my mind as I drove easily down the slow lane of the highway. How pretty the sky was, how the pollution clouded the air around me, how wherever I go I’m treated with disrespect and contempt. My mind wandered to the government, rights stripped of people who need them, people sent to war to die, animals shot down for oil drilling.

I eased up on my hands, roughly clenched on the steering wheel. A growl focused down in the back of my throat and I punched the steering wheel. I spotted a small dirt road ahead of me and screeched onto it, dust flying up behind me, leaving the highway behind.

I followed it up high, trees growing in number around me. I stopped at a small pull off, beside a beautiful clearing. I left the car behind me walked out into the empty meadow, finding a comfortable rock to perch on.

I stood tall, arms relaxed, palms facing out, eyes closed.

I listened.

The sound of the wind through the leaves gently lay in the background of the songs of birds, chirps of crickets, the gentle sound of a creek nearby. Small rustlings of life about me. No cars, no yelling, no TV, no politics, no idiocy.

Just life.

--

I checked into a cozy little hotel off the highway in another small town, tucked into a corner between two large uprisings of mountains. I carried my small bag to my room, a second floor single bed. I put my iPod on, Japanese flute Shakuhachi filling the room gently. I opened the windows and pushed open the curtains, settling down in the comfortable chair and opening a book.

I waited until the sun went down before closing the book, five chapters further. I turned off my iPod and locked up the room, finding a neat little cafe on the main street of the town for dinner. I drank a green tea and had a small dinner of pasta. I watched the life of the town, wondering how much happier they were than big city people.

Knowing how happier they were than big city people.

I walked the main street, viewing small shops and bookstores, smiling at strangers. I spotted a man sitting at a table in a small coffee shop, writing intently on a piece of paper. I thought of Dante, pencil always tucked behind his ear, piles of papers on his desk.

I left the next morning.

--

Not really a filler, but not really a bigger part of the story. I’m leading you in to the conflict, giving you hints.

Thanks for all the reviews. I’ll see if I can respond to some later. Leave me some new ones?

Haw haw, I’m kinda lame today.

-Jaws