Sweltering. The only word I can use to describe it. The steady flow of bodies collide with each other making it hard to do anything. The putrid odour drifts on the breeze and it's hard to bear. Heavenly rays slip through the gaps in tattered market shelters casting rainbows on fresh puddles in paving stones, it would be beautiful if not for the hundreds of feet trampling them. I can’t complain too much. It's last friday, pay has come in and for some reason the people of mossdale love some fresh fruit. On a normal day you could mingle and chat with the keepers but not now. Watching the hordes emerge from their various places of business is strangely satisfying, it's like clockwork to the minute.

The god rays only get more intense as time ticks on so i decide to make a move and get out of here. I feel as if I'm being crushed by the masses as I slip into the wall of flesh and follow the current flowing downstream. Out of the corner of my eye I could swear I saw an apple floating, almost as if God himself had graced it and granted it the gift of ascendance. It's too late for a double take, by the time I blink the stall is out of view, my eyes must just be seeing things again. That happens a lot here. As I let the current pass me around I can appreciate the beauty and charm of this town, the rainbow of canvas overhead defending us all incase of a slight drizzle and the smiles and laughter that fills the air. On a usual day the atmosphere is as good as it sounds.

I want to squeal as an unseen force grabs my wrist and tugs me against the flow. I know it would be foolish and just make me look weird, nobody would hear me over the hustle and bustle so I wait until I exit the flow. It strangely hurts, squeezing through the smallest of gaps, violating social space left right and center leaving confused men and women in my wake, I hear a few heys and watch it but it's too late to apologize as I'm reeled in to whichever creep wants me this bad. To my surprise there is no mysterious stranger at the end of the line but instead a beaming lad. I don't see his hand on my wrist but instead in his ocean blue jeans pockets. If he catches my perplexed look through his stupid grin he doesnt say so. His face falls into its neutral expression like i'd missed a punchline to a joke or something but he talks nevertheless. 

“Sorry, just didn't know how else to get your attention in there” he lowers his head in apology so low i think he might bow

“A simple hi would have sufficed '' I snap without realizing it, something in me doesn't forgive him, so I just tell it to him straight and try not to hurt his feelings.

“Sorry i didn't mean to come across like that, you shouldn't just grab me like that or anyone for that matter” 

He looks sorry enough so i'll let him off with that for now. He waits for a little over a few seconds before moving on, I'm almost offended he doesn't take me seriously but it's whatever, he never has. I don't know where we are walking to and if I had to guess, neither does he. Harry and I do this a lot, there isn't much exciting going on in town right now, (there never is) so we just talk the day away about the cute girl he saw or we have heated debates about anime or other crap. We have known each other for a while. I, despite being relatively out going never had any real luck making friends so i just floated through school, a jelly fish in the sea of education. About halfway through secondary school harry smith decided to chat me up, at first it was fun to play along and watch him try so hard but i couldn't lead him on forever as funny as that would have been. He never even got past first base and somehow we have managed to stay friends ever since. He's a kind lad with prospects of fame and fortune, he wants to get out of here and get his own fanclub or girls that will follow him up and down the country. Unfortunately he has no talent whatsoever. I'm often perplexed by the three members already in his fanclub here in mossdale. I know he's kind of cute, not my type personally but still. it would break their little hearts to know how he feels about them so i keep it to myself. Apparently they're not ‘cute’ enough. Shallow bastard.

We walk for what seems like mere minutes but I know it has been far, far longer. The blinding light from the market has gone away for the day and has taken on a more bronze tone cascading over the horizon. The breeze, despite it being mid summer, has taken on a bitter chill. Almost enough to make me regret wearing my cut out top. 

Yawning heavily harry turns to me “maybe we should circle back” 

I have to agree, it will be dark soon and i don't want to run into trouble. 

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“Yeah” is all I can manage before following suit and letting out a colossal yawn.

We take a much faster route back to the town centre, a mix of backstreets and back alleys. If not for Harry I wouldn't have dared to. Usually neither would he but he seems much more confident than usual, like he has awakened something in himself since i last saw him yesterday. On the edge of my vision I catch sight of something that, to my knowledge, only exists here in our town. Posers. They seem normal and you probably wouldn't be able to point them out in a crowd, but they got their name for a reason. To put it in short they meet up and just pose at each other. Sometimes it's spontaneous in a street or they will meet up in a back alley like now. One thing I've noticed however is they always seem to be injured to some degree. Maybe a few cuts here and there or bruises all down their arms, it's weird. I'm not about to stop and talk to them about it because as strange and unpopular me and Harry are… they are so much worse. Harry doesn't say anything. But as I go to say something I notice he is staring at them. First at them both and then at the space between them, he seems surprised, in a good way, but then something else catches his eye. One of the posers runs a hand through beautiful, full ash silver hair and what's left of the sunlight manages to filter through the alley and glistens off of her crimson eyes. Harry does all but drop his jaw to the floor and pant like a dog and it takes all I can muster to not laugh at him. He noticed me in front of him and pushed me past the alley with a fire in his eyes.

“Like what you see?” teasing him brings me great joy and I don't even try to hide it. 

“J… just watching the posers do their thing”

He finally manages to force out after what he must have felt as an everlasting few seconds. This is the most fun i've had all day to let's twist the knife just a tad more

“What about her does it for you, the jumper or the booty shorts hmm?” 

I can tell he knows I'm joking with him but still his blush disperses and he looks like he might explode. I've never seen him this way, usually he would put up a mask and act all cool when it comes to women. I doubt he's like this under the mask with anyone else but i won't look into it too much, for now. I'll pick at him tomorrow about it, I'm intrigued though.

“Really though why don't you just go talk to her”

My fun, jokey tone has left me and I'm in full support mode. I want what's best for my buddy afterall.

“I uhm. I just need time to collect myself… don't want to look like an ass y’know”

This flustered harry is a nice sight, all day he's been a bit off, ‘sturdier’ for lack of a better word. This is a breath of fresh air, he hasn't changed one bit.

As we get back to the market area the sun has just about gone in and I can barely see where I'm going. If not for the street lamps (the small few that actually work) i'd be going in blind. This area gives off a completely different vibe at night, no colour, no sound, as if it's been abandoned. I only live a few minutes away so i hug harry goodbye and plant the seed of thought in him by whispering in his ear

“Xs and Os” a slight giggle escapes and I turn and leave. I still wonder what he saw in that girl. Maybe her what I assume was a lime jumper that was at least two sizes too big? The noughts and crosses all over her? Maybe I'll never truly understand that boy. I shake that off when I pass the threshold into the comforting warmth of home. Despite it being as late as it is, the lights are still on and placing the basic ‘modern’ furniture and fittings dotting the front room on full display, it's not my style (not enough colour). I can also hear the microwave turning, its humm is deafening, 

“Why are they so damn loud” I'm talking to nobody but myself when mum pokes her head around the corner. 

“Hey sweetie, got a surprise” once again it's late, how is she so awake and chirpy? I kick my shoes off next to the sofa and let gravity do the work. Mum's chipper look falters for a split second at my sloppiness but she says nothing. 

“Do you not want to come?”

She seems to have chosen those words specifically, come. Come where? My confusion must translate into my face because without me saying a word she can pick up on it and decides to tell me.

“We are going to america!”

Her expression beams brighter than the market at midday and her excitement spills out, her enthusiasm would spread to and overwhelm me 

if not for one word that’s plaguing my mind that overpowers all of this. It's not even a word,

“Huh?”

She doesn't elaborate but rather just puts on a smile and goes back to the microwave. She enjoys this, more than I enjoy teasing harry. I deserve this. But still, America isn't a place for the joanes. city that never sleeps, the big apple, vegas, los angeles. I'm excited, this holiday will give me all the excitement that I lack in this town. Can't wait.