Choices Made by Stupid People [Tag: Sarah]

There were many times in a person’s life where they made a decision. Whether the decision was the right one, the best one, the worst or the stupidest, the choice had to be made by someone. Most of the time, it was a conscious choice, and the person making it had enough of their own sense to know that it was the choice they wanted to make at the time. This logic, which Michael had let pulse through his head with each passing second of his ever-increasing heart rate, only made the boy feel more and more like an idiot. Yes, there was a bit of a gap in the fence, but why did he feel the need to go through it? He had snuck out of a familiar place to an unfamiliar place that was very…open.

It made him shudder as he looked around at the surroundings. Everything was moving way, way to fast, and no one stopped to even realize that a nine year old was holding onto his game-boy like it was his life-preserver. He shifted his head to look left and right. The brown hair that he’d not bothered to even try and fix hung loosely in front of his face, and all along his head. Snarled and unkempt, like the rest of his appearance. The long hair still didn’t do that much to cover a pale face, and eyes with dark circles around them. If he had been out here a month or so ago, he would look deathly skinny. Now, he just looked like any knobby-kneed boy.

The shoulder of his plain-white shirt fell off of one arm just slightly, and it seemed like he had no intention of fixing it as he kind of slunk alongside the trees in the park. The boy’s bare hands seem to grip onto one tree, and he almost looked terrified of stretching his legs out enough so he could make it to the shelter of the next. The little kitten, afraid of this new place he was in, looked as though he could care less that there were kids out swinging on the play set. Right now, he had a job to do…right? Right. He had to do his game and get to the next few levels.

Avoiding the eye contact of strangers, Michael adjusted his black fanny pack to the front of him so he could sit down beneath the tree. He didn’t want to take up any space outside the comfort of the tree, so he kind of brought his legs close into his person, that way they would be sheltered from the horribly open space around him. One of his hands was holding the game-boy, and the other moved up to tug a strand of his hair nervously. This was a strange place that wasn’t in his routine. He needed a routine.

Michael bit his lip and decided that it was better to play his game than to do anything else. He looked down at the game, starting it up. Soon, the little familiar noises filled the area close to him, and that was all he needed. Just his little space with the little noises that went to his ears. Big places had too much noise, or too many things going on at once and he couldn’t keep track of anything that was going on, because nothing was making logical sense. In any case, the little boy bit down on his lip once again as he continued to play the game. His arms soon coming to a stop on his blue-jeans, letting his legs do the work of holding his arms, which did the work of holding the game up for himself.