Last week my cousin AJ broke his arm (again). I told him it was because he doesn't drink enough milk, all he drinks is soda. Which made me think about that stupid song again, which made me want to write this.
AJ and me are the same age (actually, six months difference). Ever since we were little I've always been taller than him.
Up until a month ago, and now he's exactly five foot five, while I am a measly five foot four. Big deal, I say, but he thinks it is.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own LOST. The end.
-POPROCKS AND COKE-
-BY WHENICOMEAROUND
-CHAPTER TWO-
"Excuse me!"
Kate turned around and saw the speaker- a man, who was crouching on the floor, not wearing a shirt.
"Can you sew?" he asked her.
Kate swallowed. "I sewed the drapes in my apartment." she told him.
"Great. Can you do this for me? I'd do it myself, but I can't reach..." The man indicated a cut on his back. He held up a string and needle.
"Oh, no. I can't do that." said Kate.
"Yes, you can, you said you've sewn before!"
"No, that's different. When you sew drapes you use a sewing machine, I'm not good at sewing people."
The man tried to smile. "Please, help me?"
Kate sighed and nodded reluctantly. She bent down beside him and took the needle from him.
That's when she felt it.
Kate wanted to gasp and drop the needle, but she resisted because she didn't want to hurt the man. But she had only felt what she was feeling now, standing, crouching there beside this man she didn't know, holding a needle and touching his bare skin once before.
And that was nearly twenty years ago, when she had eaten poprocks and coke.
Her head and her heart were racing. She was having trouble breathing and more trouble swallowing.
She knotted the string and the man said, "Thank you."
"No problem," she said. She stood up, then helped the man stand. Even though he didn't look like he needed it, she longed to touch him again.
"I'm Jack," he said.
"Kate," she said in a small voice that did not belong to her. "My name's Kate."