Primetime Cartoons

It’s a Tuesday.

The room’s awfully green. A lobby. Kid looks over at the girl across from him with a big smirk on his face as the bear is smacked across the face with a fish, and they’re both giggling. The television screen lights up their eyes like cats in the night or some such. They don’t know each other’s name, as neither made a point to bring it up.

I remember that kid. What’s missing to him is context. It’s always Tuesdays, and it’s always at ten o’clock. Doesn’t make a note of it until he grows older.

People walk in, and people leave. They bring their various smells, worn faces and strained smiles. Doesn’t think much of it at the time.

The hammering. The moans overhead. This means nothing to him, though the voice is faintly familiar.

I remember it having a tinge of remorse.

The boy and girl hold hands as the credits roll. It’s about time to depart.

Give it ten or so years, I think to myself.

Grabs his mothers hand. Puts on what’s left of his shoes and walks out the door.

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