Saturday, February 14, 2009

Rubix Cube

This thing is impossible! thinks Peter as he walks. The rubix cube in his hands holds his mind more than the van that's been following him for the past three blocks. The teen (just barely so, now, the cube was his present last Tuesday) would normally see it, but no, not today. The rubix cube is far more important than the van. Nor does he notice the missing person poster that blows by, with the face of a girl he saw once in passing. Normally, he would see that too.
The chain link fence beside him rattles in the wind as the poster smacks into it. He doesn't notice, twisting the cube again and again and again. He doesn't get it. He should, he's sure of it. It's just a kid's toy, for crying out loud, he should've had this finished two days ago.
But he didn't, and he doesn't.
And the van gets closer.
His hat almost blows away, and he puts up his hand to catch it, without thinking. Leaves blow by, red and yellow and brown and brown.
Peter looks up at a crosswalk, checking the light. The slate gray building beside him, unfeeling in the cold wind, stands in stark contrast to the rubix cube in his memory and in his hands.
And the van gets closer.
He's almost got it when the light turns, and he walks onward. Twist, twist, and he's beginning to find the pattern. He smiles. Almost, almost...

This is impossible. thinks the policeman assigned to find him.