Outside, Inside, and Openings

Peter shifted, borrowed dress shoes crunching gravel, “Let’s go. I told you it was bullsh…”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Ryan shot back over his shoulder flatly. Again he knocked, more resolutely this time, “Cactus. Venom. Ro-de-o.”

Something heavy scraped then thudded into place behind the door, and Peter nearly pissed himself. He was pretty sure he hadn’t. He really hoped he hadn’t, as even a small escape of urine heralded a bad night, whatever the other circumstances. Ryan just gave a triumphant snort and smirked back at Peter with a thumbs up sign.

A gruff voice leaked out of the interior as a window in the door swung open, “Impatient, snot-nosed, little pieces of…” The speaker stopped, cleared his throat violently, and spat something out. Dingy light and thin trails of smoke came from the small window but no more sounds for a few minutes.

Ryan stood tall, eyes locked on the tiny opening into a world of which he had only hitherto dreamed. Peter glanced nervously around the parking lot.

View this story's 4 comments.