A Small Moment
A Small Moment
She pulled into the parking spot atop the ten story parking deck with the reckless abandon only a snotty kid around 16 can really pull off with any degree of conviction. As she manually rolled down the window of her beat up 2003 Focus the first few twangs of Bob Andrews’ guitar rang out signaling the start of “Kiss Me Deadly” -- a pleasant surprise to be found on the mix tape her friend had given to her after 3rd entitled cryptically, Punk Rock For Sarah.
Grinning widely, she turned up the volume to full blast. This was a song for the ages. The kind of song that sets your soul free… one that would make you gladly rip your heart out and tattoo the lyrics on there just to ensure they never left you. Or at least that’s how Sarah felt about it.
As Billy started crooning away in his own perpetually sneering way, Sarah carefully maneuvered her knee on the seal of her window and hoisted herself up to the roof of her car to get a better look at the city below her.
Greensboro.
It was her kingdom, her domain. Ever since that license had grazed her hand she had spent every free second slumming around these streets. She had discovered the vintage store with the punk rock owner that would get her into all of the local after show parties on Tate Street and the show tune singing, window cleaning cowboy that haunted most of the High Point Road strip malls in search of a quick buck. She had found salvation among the rows upon rows of records in Remember When by Florida Street. Home had become the tiny Tavern on Friendly across from Guilford College where a couple times a month she ventured to hear another band wail and bang its heart out as Punk Rock Jesus stood on his stoop pulpit by the dumpsters giving all of the new kids instruction on how to tell the system to “go fuck itself with a banana.” Amen.
All of this seemed to be able to fit perfectly in her palm as she watched the sun sink lazily behind the trees. It was mid-October and the changing of leaves was in full swing, making the entire city look as if it was engulfed in beautiful flames.
“The beauty is in the end, Stevo,” she mumbled amusedly to herself. A person walking across the City Hall court yard caught her eye. They were probably just getting off from a long day that proved not to be productive enough to keep from having to drag work home as the stack of papers they were struggling to hold onto indicated.
Sensing a prime opportunity to cause punishment free chaos, Sarah jumped off the roof -- wincing and cursing at the weakness of her ankles. As she approached the edge of the deck, Sarah eyed the lone moving spec the way a cat would eye the small stuffed mouse attached to the string. Taking a deep breathe of icy air she bellowed a terrific “HEY,” causing birds to abandon their perches and the city worker to drop all of their papers in surprise.
The sight caused her to double over in laughter, but her pleasure quickly turned to guilt as she watched the worker struggle pathetically to gather all their hard day’s work that was currently being blown away by the brisk fall winds. She almost had decided to rush as quickly as possible to this poor bastard’s aid until she was reminded by the end of “Kiss Me Deadly” and the beginning of “Christie Road” that she had her own track side rendezvous to attend.
Popping the tape out of her car stereo and into her Walkman, Sarah took one more look at her kingdom as a whole and then proceeded to walk with a carefree bounce towards the parking deck stair well.
Grinning widely, she turned up the volume to full blast. This was a song for the ages. The kind of song that sets your soul free… one that would make you gladly rip your heart out and tattoo the lyrics on there just to ensure they never left you. Or at least that’s how Sarah felt about it.
As Billy started crooning away in his own perpetually sneering way, Sarah carefully maneuvered her knee on the seal of her window and hoisted herself up to the roof of her car to get a better look at the city below her.
Greensboro.
It was her kingdom, her domain. Ever since that license had grazed her hand she had spent every free second slumming around these streets. She had discovered the vintage store with the punk rock owner that would get her into all of the local after show parties on Tate Street and the show tune singing, window cleaning cowboy that haunted most of the High Point Road strip malls in search of a quick buck. She had found salvation among the rows upon rows of records in Remember When by Florida Street. Home had become the tiny Tavern on Friendly across from Guilford College where a couple times a month she ventured to hear another band wail and bang its heart out as Punk Rock Jesus stood on his stoop pulpit by the dumpsters giving all of the new kids instruction on how to tell the system to “go fuck itself with a banana.” Amen.
All of this seemed to be able to fit perfectly in her palm as she watched the sun sink lazily behind the trees. It was mid-October and the changing of leaves was in full swing, making the entire city look as if it was engulfed in beautiful flames.
“The beauty is in the end, Stevo,” she mumbled amusedly to herself. A person walking across the City Hall court yard caught her eye. They were probably just getting off from a long day that proved not to be productive enough to keep from having to drag work home as the stack of papers they were struggling to hold onto indicated.
Sensing a prime opportunity to cause punishment free chaos, Sarah jumped off the roof -- wincing and cursing at the weakness of her ankles. As she approached the edge of the deck, Sarah eyed the lone moving spec the way a cat would eye the small stuffed mouse attached to the string. Taking a deep breathe of icy air she bellowed a terrific “HEY,” causing birds to abandon their perches and the city worker to drop all of their papers in surprise.
The sight caused her to double over in laughter, but her pleasure quickly turned to guilt as she watched the worker struggle pathetically to gather all their hard day’s work that was currently being blown away by the brisk fall winds. She almost had decided to rush as quickly as possible to this poor bastard’s aid until she was reminded by the end of “Kiss Me Deadly” and the beginning of “Christie Road” that she had her own track side rendezvous to attend.
Popping the tape out of her car stereo and into her Walkman, Sarah took one more look at her kingdom as a whole and then proceeded to walk with a carefree bounce towards the parking deck stair well.