Lappy

It was his first. He recalled the all-nighters, pouring his thoughts into its circuitry, pizza crumbs in the crevices, indiscernible streaks across the screen, and then a long life as a glorified coffee table. Now she said he had to get rid of it, it sounded like an ultimatum, but he knew better than to fight for it. He couldn’t stand someone else having it, so he picked it up and took it to his mother’s basement.

Ipad

He was desperate to get a leg up. It had been tedious trying to convince colleagues and family that he was worthy, talented and intelligent. His desire to clamber and climb had become a lifelong distraction and he wasn’t going to stop now. If this didn’t do it, he’d have to invent something else. His Trekkie sense tingled transporter

The Cop

He knew they would look. Pride surged from his chest as he paraded by in machine bellowing convoy. He had wrangled a childhood passion and made it his. But the pressure to maintain this stance, the prestige, the expectations, was a burden. And to top it off, he preferred croissants to donuts.

Pig Truck

There was a time when he wanted to hide what he did. Now he saw no shame in it, it was a noble profession after all, one held down by his namesakes for generations. He understood it was offensive to others. He was dealing with death and people turned a blind eye to that. In blocking that out, he too became invisible. And that he struggled to overcome.

Espresso

He wanted to focus on what she was saying but his mind had other plans. Her voice was imperative, wanting, demanding. Blocking it out could not only be blamed on his fatigue. Her tone was red with no hint of compassion and it made him forget why he loved her. Then suddenly she stopped herself, stroked his hand, and he looked up adoringly into her eyes.

Shopping Cart Lady

She had been pretending for years now. Her identity as matron was over and she was deep in denial. She continued to bake and cook for a family that didn’t exist. Ghosts at the Sunday dinner table. And with the pies laid out on the table she dug into the tub of ice cream accepting that she had to move on.

Wrenches

It was Dad’s private space. Why this was a secret was baffling to a little boy. With sneaking, innocent eyes he understood it in a literal way. As an adult he saw the true myriad meanings of his time spent here, why he needed to get away. For his father, this was enough to temper his soul. He had inherited it now and he knew just what he’d do.

Lakeview

Breathe. This was universally easy, a mantra, he had been told. Carted up here to relax, forced into it, he sat in the proper position and tried to do so. The surroundings were appropriate, picture book some might say, but it belied his noisy mind. The mental cacophony drowned out the calm his eyes took in. He gripped the bottle pressing on his palm with its dewy coolness and took a swig. That helped.

The Basement Poster

He cringed every time. His brother was intolerable and it embarrassed him when friends walked in. He amped up his weirdness to the hilt when he had an audience. It was clear he didn’t want to be identified with everything the family name brought. He embraced the black sheep stigma. Yet he refused to move out.

Parking Meter

She cursed city life.

Red Truck

He waited for his parents while staring out the back window of the parked car. Dreaming of becoming older he imagined the things he would do; drive shiny trucks with pretty girls in the front seat, wear cut off T shirts and mirrored sunglasses while leaning his arm out the window, feel the breeze rustling through his hair. Everyone would look and he would beam back. Then his sister whacked him in the head with her Barbie bringing him back to the stifling heat of the back seat.

The Couch

She was embarrassed when the morning illuminated things. Feeling kin to this clique had weakened and her strength to strike out came in clarity after her tequila haze. Though the evening’s revelry had seemed bonding it now reeked of superficiality. Dragging the night’s knots out of her hair with her fingers, she walked out without saying goodbye.

The Wire

Mama made her stay in again, confined to her room. How could she possibly understand her desire to see him? She explained to her friends, it was an electric connection, like a movie where the boy meets the girl and he gets her with a single steely blue-eyed stare. There was nothing she could imagine more than being pressed against him under the humidity of that heavy summer sky. She considered a high wire act to escape.

Hubba Bubba

She snuck out again without them noticing. She developed a sound technique that involved taking out her own garbage and eating copious amounts of gum. Mints didn’t work, Hubba Bubba was her trick, it’s fragrance hung heavily in the air, her own personal cloud of sickly sweetness. She wasn’t the only one hiding smoke breaks. She spied on him before deciding the skulker would become a comrade.

Night Car

They had made a pact. If she were ever in trouble, no matter what time, she would come and pick her up. The phone call had seemed nonchalant, few words were exchanged, but it was clear and she fumbled for her keys with her bleary midnight eyes. Through the traffic free nighttime drive her mind wandered to the worst scenarios for a teenage girl at a sleepover. Her mind was put at rest when her pajama-clad daughter got in and announced that she had forgot her stuffie.