The living room was lit only by the faint glow of a TV. He was sound asleep on the couch, where his exhaustion had triumphed over his will to get in bed, as it did every night. It wasn’t until the TV went to silent static that he awoke.
He fumbled with the keys on his keychain, trying to function without having had his morning coffee yet. When the correct key presented itself, he pushed it into the lock and felt the tumblers give way to its force.
The sounds of the city streets were the only things keeping him awake. The constant revving of the cars, the yelling vendors, the construction hammers—he needed all of them after his early morning job, a full day of classes, and this job, which wouldn’t be over until nine o’clock.
Mike shoved him over to the freezer and made him open it. Inside were rows upon rows of frozen creatures, each no bigger than Mike’s fist. “I’m sorry, Mike. But business was down, and everyone loves these things.”
We live nestled into the safety of the mountains. My little brother and I have never seen the world outside of our cove, but Mom says there’s no reason to care about what’s out there anyway.