Well, it's a new story! It took like forever for me to start writing again after I took a "break." But whatevs - I'm back.
Oh, side note - I re-did my profile thing. You could, y'know, read it... or not. Hey man, do what makes you happy. You're the real producer, I'm just the piano man.
Please review. As a shallow writer and person, reviews drive me to post faster.
Dusk was falling as two adolescents wandered around Fifth Avenue. The rich and glamorous citizens surrounding them disgusted the strong-jawed boy and delighted the bright-eyed girl. She grinned shamelessly, admiring their coats, their shoes, their everything. Her worn-out clothing seemed to insult the very facades of the ritzy apartments. Naïve amazement and innocent longing mixed on her tanned features as she took everything in.
"Let's go home, Muffy." The boy pleaded for the third time, pulling of his hat. After a long day of selling newspapers, all the newsie could think of was his bed.
"Oh, please just a little bit longer." She whimpered, taking his right hand in both of hers. A gust of wind provided momentary relief from the summer day's lingering heat.
Pulling it away, he rubbed his temples. "I hate it here." He stated bluntly. She frowned, letting her arms hang loosely. "Muff, don't make me stay. It's so..." He didn't finish his sentence, as if the scene of decadence around them said it all. Wordlessly conceding, the girl allowed herself to be led away from her dreamland, but not without watching it fade away over her shoulder.
Back in the slums, the boy was considerably less gloomy. He greeted any man he knew with a hand shake and cheery small-talk. Muffy fell a step behind her companion and gave a friendly nod to these acquaintances. This was her comfort zone. A shy girl, she always found allowing others to do the talking and quietly listening the best strategy around unfamiliar faces such as these.
Once the two found the streets deserted besides anyone but themselves, the boy asked "Why so quiet tonight, doll?"
With a shrug, she replied "Don't know, Skits. Tired, I guess."
"Nah, ya ain't tired. You're thinkin' hard 'bout something in that head of yours."
"Truth is, he's right." She mused. "I ain't thinkin' about nothing."
Arriving at the lodging house, he "If you ain't thinkin' 'bout nothing, then the goddamn pope is Jewish." He smiled, proud of his joke.
"Can you say 'goddamn pope?' I think it contradicts itself." She wondered aloud as Skittery opened the door for her.
"Shut up." He followed her into the house and towards the stairs.
Muffy climbed to the third stair before stopping short and turning around. Almost colliding into her, Skittery quirked an eyebrow at her. "I just wanted to say thanks for taking me out there tonight. I know you hate it, but I couldn't go without you." He nodded, realizing that it was true. Her grandfather never let her out at night without an escort.
"I'd say 'anytime,' but I think you'd take advantage of that kind of commitment Ms. Kloppman. G'night." Skittery turned into the room he and the newsies shared as Muffy continued to the attic she stayed in alone.
"Sweet dreams." She said through a yawn.
For those of you wondering where I'm going with this, we're in the same boat. Well, let me know what you think and any suggestions would be cool. Peace.