DaySleeper

I sit in the alley behind the kitchen on a milk crate, chain smoking. I look down at the half-empty pack and give myself a gold star for buying a whole carton, which is tucked safely in my bag, back in my room, under my bed.

The kitchen door swings open, blocking me from seeing who it is. Light floods the dark alley way. The door swings shut, and there stands Avid, alone. I flick my cigarette. The falling ash catches his eye.

“Hi,” he says. I smile and take another drag.

“Hi,” I reply.

“You’re new, huh?’ he asks, sitting on the milk crate next to me, pulling out a pack of cigarettes himself. He lights one and inhales.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“I think you’ll enjoy it here,” he says, “I keep coming back.”

I nod into the darkness, awkwardness creeping up my throat.

“Where did you go? Alice told me you were teaching people to speak English…?” I say, breaking the awkward silence.

“She’s a liar,” he says, not unkindly, “I went to visit my mom for a month. She’s living in Europe. She teaches, not me. I didn’t go to college.”

“Me neither,” I laugh.

“How old are you?”

“19.”

“Well, I'm 22. I have less of an excuse.” He says. I smile.

“Still,” I say, “I think working here might be affecting more people in a positive way than going to school would.”

“I agree,” he says, facing me, “tell my mom that. She thinks I am throwing my life away.”

“I find there’s a big difference between throwing away a lifetime and donating parts of it,” I respond. His smile widens.

“I am Avid,” he says.

“I know,” I reply slowly, building up my courage, “what kind of a name is that?”

“It’s not,” he laughs. “But, tell me the shining example of a name that you have.”

“Cadence,” I inform him.

“Isn’t that a girl’s—?”

“Yes, but at least it’s a name.”

“Touche.”