Show

Cal stared at the numbers swimming by on blank paper. There was nothing left in his head, just a few empty thoughts rolling around in a deep sea of vague resentment. The door creaked open, then thudded shut, rattling the large plastic window above the handle. The beige wall gazed silently past the glare of the fluorescent lights. Cal ducked his head under the visual warfare and pretended to scribble.

He distantly heard two of the other occupants of the room start to talk quietly, the absence of authority prompting that which would not have been censured, just chided. Their voices released some of the tension of silence, and Cal slumped back in his seat, tossing his pencil with a sharp clack onto the chipped wooden surface.

The whiteboard at the front of the room was uncharacteristically bare, but no less than characteristically clean, polished by the alcohol that cleaned and corroded and made Cal a little giddy every time he breathed in. Sometimes, he would take a few extra breaths before the smell could fade.

The voices behind him grew louder, but Cal didn't turn around. He lowered his eyes back to the smudged page before him, shoving himself back upright, and snatching up his pencil, tapping a plastic end against his chin. The two behind him suddenly grew quiet, and Cal froze, staring nowhere.

One lowered voice broke the silence.

"Hey, want to see the video of the fight? I have it on my phone."

The other replied, fast and guilt-low.

"Yeah, sure."

"It's HD, man."

"Wow."

"It's pretty tight."

"Where was it?"

"Vernon Park."

"You went?"

"No, I... I didn't go. Wait, wait. You have to see this part. I'll tell you when Michael dislocates his shoulder."

"Why'd they fight?"

"Because Michael and Rodney, they... You know. They had this thing and... I don't know."

"There a lot of people there?"

"Yeah. Oh wait. Wait. There."

"Oooh."

"See, Michael's trying to punch, but he can't."

"Shit."

"And then he breaks Rodney's nose right... there."

"Wait, he broke his nose!?"

"Yeah. If you wait, you'll see this huge thing of blood on the ground."

"Oh, man."

"They say that when Michael got home, he was covered in blood and stuff and he passed out and ended up in the ER."

"Holy-"

"-There, you see it? The blood?"

"What-oh."

The door creaked open again, and Cal sensed a flurry of movement behind him. He sank back down in his seat, pencil dropping again from twitching fingers. He breathed deeply, once.

The show was over.