Neil sat on his bed scribbling the last of his essay on a piece of paper. Tied up all week he had settled on procrastination on this particular essay. It had caught up to him and was now due tomorrow. His pen moved down the paper until there was no space left. He look around him for another sheet in his assorted notes and books but found nothing. Realizing he had left his paper in a folder in his last class he ran his hand tiredly over his face. This just wasn't his day. He thought about getting off the bed and moving to his desk before he fell asleep. He did this almost stiffly, feeling much older then he was. He was warn out. And now he needs paper!
"There is no way," he mumbled to himself. "That I am going back to look for a piece of paper!"
He sat down almost defiantly on his desk chair. Arms crossed and head up, in mock argument with himself as his mind went through alternatives. Turning to creak his back his eyes fell on Todd's desk and a smile broke on his face.
"Man, Neil your brain must really be fried" He said continuing his self debate. "Todd wouldn't mind if I borrowed a piece of paper. 'Me casa es tu casa!' Am I right? And since we have that down because we indeed share a "casa". Then why not take it up a notch to Me cosas es tu cosas!"
With a renewed energy Neil jumped up from his chair and plopped down into Todd's. He hesitated a moment as invasion of privacy crossed his mind then pushed it off.
"It's not like I'm snooping,' he tried to tell himself. 'I'll just get the paper and get out" He half smiled.
If he were being honest with himself he would acknowledge his fascination for his roommate that he knew little about. He had been living in the same room with him for some time now and knew next to nothing about him. When others saw this in Todd they brushed it off as him being shy and just plain boring. Neil, however knew there was more to Todd that met the eye and was waiting for a glimpse of it.
Now feeling almost guilty Neil told himself again, "I'm just going for paper!" With that he opened the first drawer.
Nothing. Some pencils, pens, other writing supplies, erasers, paperclips, index cards. No paper. Next drawer. This drawer looked a little more promising. It was filled with notebooks and other bound books. On the top was an overturned framed picture that Neil, in his curiosity, picked up without hesitation.
It appeared to be a family photo. In the foreground of the picture was a young man with features similar to Todd's but also very different. This boy was bigger in build and his head was held up high. He seemed to hold a bit of arrogance in his wide smile and blue eyes. Todd's older brother. The 'father' Neil guessed had his right arm swung proudly over the boys shoulders. The mother stood to the boys right. Her smile glowing and her hand resting lightly on the boy's shoulder. Then there was Todd a step behind his mother. Slouched down as he usually is and hands held nervously in front of him. A slight but very fake smile plastered almost painfully on his face. Neil felt a pang in his chest at Todd's expression.
Neil realizing he had been studying the photo for quite a while now quickly placed it back in the drawer. Face down. He moved to the books now. With a new slow melancholy that he couldn't quite place and didn't want to study. He picked up a warn black book.
"Maybe it's a school notebook and I can take a paper from it." Neil said softly as if he could speak his innocents into existence.
It wasn't a school book as was obvious by the cover and made crystal clear by the pages. It was a journal. Or so it seemed to be. Every page was filled with Todd's writing. Scrawled shaky and uncertain. Page after page full. And then it was like Neil wasn't himself anymore. He wasn't the Neil that shared a room with a kid named Todd and was now going through the boys personal things. He was outside himself looking in. He was unaware now that anyone could be hurt here, his curiosity took control of him and nothing mattered besides what was in this book. He began to read.
Alone
By E. A. Poe
From childhood's hour,
I have not been as others were,
I have not seen as others saw,
I could not bring my passion from a common spring,
From the same source I have not taken my sorrow,
I could not awaken my heart to joy at the same tone,
And all I lov'd I lov'd alone,
Then in my childhood,
in the dawn of a most stormy life was drawn,
From ev'ry depth of good and ill,
The mystery which binds me still,
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd,
In it's autumn tint of gold,
From the thunder, and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(when the rest of heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view...
