part 1

it started with the desert. a long, endless expanse, hills of sand every way. blazing sun, bouncing off his back. he had seen the jeep, and it's driver, but he didn't see their face... her face, he corrected himself, definitely a female driver. after seeing someone, anyone else in this place, he suddenly felt very alone. "why had she not stopped?" he wondered to himself. the feeling of alone was suffocating. if he yelled, no one would hear him. he didn't even know where he was. he spun in circles, searching the land for the jeep, hoping he could flag them down, but it was just sand, every way.
      the landscape he was seeing, his surroundings started to fade and blur. he could hear someone talking in the background. he jolted upright, alone in his bed. shimmering with sweat, and out of breath.
         early morning sun was sneaking through his curtains. his alarm was going off. it must be 5:30 already, he thought. he rolled out of bed, and shut off the alarm. "what a way to live, eh?"  his dog gave him a puzzled look, and put his head back down for more rest.

       he threw on a pair of grey jogging pants, and a white undershirt. looking around his room, he found the matching grey hoodie. he stumbled downstairs, squinting at the window, that showered him with light.  he threw some bread in the toaster, and scooped a cup full of food for barley, his dog.

Grabbing his backpack, he headed out the door and began his run to work. He loved running, but hated it at the same time. He loved being in shape, looking as his neighbourhood, and seeing the people he knew, but he hated how running left only his thoughts to himself. It was always the same thoughts running through his head. Memories of his parents, and how they were so disappointed when he said he was moving to the city, to get a job instead of going to business school, like they had planned. The scholarship for football he shot down, so he could start fresh, and the worst of them all, the girl he had left behind. He always fixed this last though, by reminding himself their relationship was going downhill.
            Soon enough, he had arrived at the destination. “quinn’s coffe”  a small coffee shop on the corner that had hired him. He dreaded word every day here. Dreaded the same old people, that mindlessly came in every day, to get the same coffee every day. He hated his co workers, and most of all, hated Mr. Fletcher. Quinn Fletcher was the owner of this coffee shop, and only cared about the money. He did not allow long conversation with customers, or joking among workers. He was the worst part of this job.