Keeping My Distance
What Are We Doing?
A thick layer of clouds engulfed the sky, holding promises of rain. Eighteen-year-old Lauren Sanford laid sprawled out in the grass, watching the never-ending sheet of grey. She didn’t understand. The clouds obviously wanted to let it all out, downpour, and scream thunder. But they didn’t. They just rolled on by, clutching on to their rain.
Lauren didn’t think it fair. Rain was just as freeing and purging for humans as for the clouds. For the clouds, releasing the rain was most likely relaxing and lifted any tension the cloud may have been holding. For humans, it was refreshing. They felt that maybe with the washing away of all topical soil and debris, their mistakes and worries could be washed away as well. They could start anew and make their lives better. Rain was a redo.
But perhaps the clouds were similar to people. Maybe they were afraid, maybe stubborn, maybe waiting for the right moment. People always want to let it out, everything they are angry about, fearing, or stressing over. But so many things get in the way. Whether it be more stress, people around, or being afraid of what comes after, humans always get caught in something. Not clouds. They don’t have anything stopping them.
How nice it would be to be a cloud. Roam where you please, see the beauty of the world, and bring serenity to a sunny day with moments of shade. Lauren just wanted to reach up, grab a fluff of cloud, and cling it tightly to her chest. She reached her arms up, even though she knew that she wouldn’t reach.
‘Some day,’ she thought. ‘Some day I will be able to float around, carefree.’
“Lauren,” came a hushed but stern voice from behind her. “Get back inside. Somebody is bound to see you.”
Lauren sighed. The sun had technically risen, even though the clouds were out to hide it. Time was up. “Sorry, I’m coming.”
She rose and made her way back to the decrepit cement building. There was Holden holding the door open for her. She took one more glance up at the sky, etching the picture of the connecting clouds into her memory. Who knew when she would be back out there again.
Lauren wanted to take as long as she could to reach Holden. But his urgent face and tapping foot was bothering her. As soon as she reached the door, Holden let go and it slammed shut. Lauren could hear it lock, reminding her that she was the antithesis of a cloud. She was trapped, never to roam the city let along the world.
“Christ, what in the world were you thinking?” Holden breathed, running his hand through his mane of red hair.
He sounded out of breath, as if he had just run a marathon. But in reality, it was just his nerves creeping up on him. Lauren always made it difficult on him and she felt bad afterward. But in the moment, she couldn’t care less about Holden’s nerves.
“Do you realize what would have happened had someone seen you?” Holden continued, still tugging at his hair. He didn’t sound angry, more tired and frustrated. It was as if he was talking to a small child and had gone through this a million times, although it was probably more like 12.
“Yes, yes, I know, I know,” she groaned. “We’ve had this discussion.”
“We shouldn’t have to have it more than once,” he groaned, his hand falling over his face.
“Whoops,” she said with a small smile. She just wanted to ease the tension.
“Why are you being so nonchalant about this? You know, I feel as if you hear but don’t listen to me.”
Lauren cringed. “Come on, Holden. Clichés, really? That is how you are going to inspirationally speak?”
Holden narrowed his eyes. Their usual green color darkened to a hazel. “It’s true, though. You hear everything I say and can repeat it back to me days later when we go over it. But you do not comprehend it. You just memorize.”
“Yadda yadda, speak speak. I’m Holden and I know everything,” she mocked.
“You are helpless,” he said, walking upstairs.
“I think it is more impossible,” Lauren joked, following him.
“Maybe that is why you are here.”
That shut Lauren up. She rolled her lips into her mouth, pressing them together. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing upstairs.
When the pair arrived, they didn’t arrive to much. Eight cots lined the walls of a plain, cement walled room with matching grey walls, grey cots, grey sheets, grey people. Well, not grey people per say. But they were so bored, pale, and lacking in nutrition that they could be considered “grey.” The room was small, but large enough to fit the cots with room to spare. Lauren’s bare feet made slapping noise as she walked across the bare floor to her cot. A few of the others gave her dirty looks, so she started tip-toeing the rest of the way. Holden was lucky, he was wearing his socks.
Once Holden had reached his cot in front of her, Lauren heard a clap of thunder.
‘Finally,’ she thought. She wished that she could have watched the thunderstorm, but the room lacked windows. The only cut out in the walls was the single door that she had just entered through, that only led to the staircase. In turn, that staircase only led to the door Lauren had snuck out of.
She listed to the raindrops slamming against the roof like horse’s hooves on a racetrack. She allowed her mind to drift back to when she would go to the racetracks with her father. Her mind could vividly remember the roar of the crowd, the commentary from the caller, the mixed smells of beer and mud, and the feel of community. No matter what day, race, or time, everybody was there for the same reason. They were there for the companionship, good times, and the possibility of making money.
Another thunderclap awoke Lauren from her daydream. She cursed the thunderstorm she had relished moments before. Memories like that were all she had anymore. Especially with her living conditions.
The no-window situation brought even more gloom to the room. Lauren found it extremely difficult to find happiness in the dull room. The other people weren’t exactly rays of sunshine either. Holden was truly the happiest person in their group after Lauren And Holden enjoyed watching golf and chess in his free time. Well, he did back when he could watch TV.
You see, the eight of them were nomads. Or, as the government was calling them, they were deserters. An epic war had struck the country. Some were referring to it as World War III. However, the President had yet to give it an official name. This unnamed war was more than the military supply could handle. It had been a throwback to a draft. And, thanks to women’s rights, everybody was being drafted equally.
Lauren was not so pleased with this idea and wanted no part of the war. So after she received the first letter, and the second, and the call, and saw the man drive up her driveway, she bailed. Lauren skipped town like there was a hopscotch board leading her way. And each of her “roommates” had a similar story. Each had their own reason, whether completely valid or not.
And there were no judgments on why people skipped. It was a safe zone. It may not be an ideal living arrangement, but when hiding from the military you cannot be picky. Especially when there is a death penalty for deserting.
All she had with her was what she could stuff in her pockets and backpack as the authorities were coming up her path. She had the three hair-ties that had been around her wrist at the time, one that had already snapped; the sneakers on her feet, luckily black, that she only wore when they changed locations as to not wear them out; two pairs of jeans; a pair of sweatpants; and three t-shirts. Every once in awhile she was able to sneak out to do laundry. This was the day that everybody longed for. On laundry day, everybody was happy because it meant 1. No stink, 2. Clean underwear, and 3. Clean sheets for better sleeping.
However, these days were extremely rare, especially with the heightened security everywhere. Most days everybody was cranky. Lauren pushed through the solidarity and sulkiness by returning to moments in her past, changing something small, and seeing what unfolds. Sometimes her mind even drifted to the battlefield, as if she hadn’t deserted. These fantasies usually were short lived and always ended with her death.
Lauren didn’t think it fair. Rain was just as freeing and purging for humans as for the clouds. For the clouds, releasing the rain was most likely relaxing and lifted any tension the cloud may have been holding. For humans, it was refreshing. They felt that maybe with the washing away of all topical soil and debris, their mistakes and worries could be washed away as well. They could start anew and make their lives better. Rain was a redo.
But perhaps the clouds were similar to people. Maybe they were afraid, maybe stubborn, maybe waiting for the right moment. People always want to let it out, everything they are angry about, fearing, or stressing over. But so many things get in the way. Whether it be more stress, people around, or being afraid of what comes after, humans always get caught in something. Not clouds. They don’t have anything stopping them.
How nice it would be to be a cloud. Roam where you please, see the beauty of the world, and bring serenity to a sunny day with moments of shade. Lauren just wanted to reach up, grab a fluff of cloud, and cling it tightly to her chest. She reached her arms up, even though she knew that she wouldn’t reach.
‘Some day,’ she thought. ‘Some day I will be able to float around, carefree.’
“Lauren,” came a hushed but stern voice from behind her. “Get back inside. Somebody is bound to see you.”
Lauren sighed. The sun had technically risen, even though the clouds were out to hide it. Time was up. “Sorry, I’m coming.”
She rose and made her way back to the decrepit cement building. There was Holden holding the door open for her. She took one more glance up at the sky, etching the picture of the connecting clouds into her memory. Who knew when she would be back out there again.
Lauren wanted to take as long as she could to reach Holden. But his urgent face and tapping foot was bothering her. As soon as she reached the door, Holden let go and it slammed shut. Lauren could hear it lock, reminding her that she was the antithesis of a cloud. She was trapped, never to roam the city let along the world.
“Christ, what in the world were you thinking?” Holden breathed, running his hand through his mane of red hair.
He sounded out of breath, as if he had just run a marathon. But in reality, it was just his nerves creeping up on him. Lauren always made it difficult on him and she felt bad afterward. But in the moment, she couldn’t care less about Holden’s nerves.
“Do you realize what would have happened had someone seen you?” Holden continued, still tugging at his hair. He didn’t sound angry, more tired and frustrated. It was as if he was talking to a small child and had gone through this a million times, although it was probably more like 12.
“Yes, yes, I know, I know,” she groaned. “We’ve had this discussion.”
“We shouldn’t have to have it more than once,” he groaned, his hand falling over his face.
“Whoops,” she said with a small smile. She just wanted to ease the tension.
“Why are you being so nonchalant about this? You know, I feel as if you hear but don’t listen to me.”
Lauren cringed. “Come on, Holden. Clichés, really? That is how you are going to inspirationally speak?”
Holden narrowed his eyes. Their usual green color darkened to a hazel. “It’s true, though. You hear everything I say and can repeat it back to me days later when we go over it. But you do not comprehend it. You just memorize.”
“Yadda yadda, speak speak. I’m Holden and I know everything,” she mocked.
“You are helpless,” he said, walking upstairs.
“I think it is more impossible,” Lauren joked, following him.
“Maybe that is why you are here.”
That shut Lauren up. She rolled her lips into her mouth, pressing them together. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing upstairs.
When the pair arrived, they didn’t arrive to much. Eight cots lined the walls of a plain, cement walled room with matching grey walls, grey cots, grey sheets, grey people. Well, not grey people per say. But they were so bored, pale, and lacking in nutrition that they could be considered “grey.” The room was small, but large enough to fit the cots with room to spare. Lauren’s bare feet made slapping noise as she walked across the bare floor to her cot. A few of the others gave her dirty looks, so she started tip-toeing the rest of the way. Holden was lucky, he was wearing his socks.
Once Holden had reached his cot in front of her, Lauren heard a clap of thunder.
‘Finally,’ she thought. She wished that she could have watched the thunderstorm, but the room lacked windows. The only cut out in the walls was the single door that she had just entered through, that only led to the staircase. In turn, that staircase only led to the door Lauren had snuck out of.
She listed to the raindrops slamming against the roof like horse’s hooves on a racetrack. She allowed her mind to drift back to when she would go to the racetracks with her father. Her mind could vividly remember the roar of the crowd, the commentary from the caller, the mixed smells of beer and mud, and the feel of community. No matter what day, race, or time, everybody was there for the same reason. They were there for the companionship, good times, and the possibility of making money.
Another thunderclap awoke Lauren from her daydream. She cursed the thunderstorm she had relished moments before. Memories like that were all she had anymore. Especially with her living conditions.
The no-window situation brought even more gloom to the room. Lauren found it extremely difficult to find happiness in the dull room. The other people weren’t exactly rays of sunshine either. Holden was truly the happiest person in their group after Lauren And Holden enjoyed watching golf and chess in his free time. Well, he did back when he could watch TV.
You see, the eight of them were nomads. Or, as the government was calling them, they were deserters. An epic war had struck the country. Some were referring to it as World War III. However, the President had yet to give it an official name. This unnamed war was more than the military supply could handle. It had been a throwback to a draft. And, thanks to women’s rights, everybody was being drafted equally.
Lauren was not so pleased with this idea and wanted no part of the war. So after she received the first letter, and the second, and the call, and saw the man drive up her driveway, she bailed. Lauren skipped town like there was a hopscotch board leading her way. And each of her “roommates” had a similar story. Each had their own reason, whether completely valid or not.
And there were no judgments on why people skipped. It was a safe zone. It may not be an ideal living arrangement, but when hiding from the military you cannot be picky. Especially when there is a death penalty for deserting.
All she had with her was what she could stuff in her pockets and backpack as the authorities were coming up her path. She had the three hair-ties that had been around her wrist at the time, one that had already snapped; the sneakers on her feet, luckily black, that she only wore when they changed locations as to not wear them out; two pairs of jeans; a pair of sweatpants; and three t-shirts. Every once in awhile she was able to sneak out to do laundry. This was the day that everybody longed for. On laundry day, everybody was happy because it meant 1. No stink, 2. Clean underwear, and 3. Clean sheets for better sleeping.
However, these days were extremely rare, especially with the heightened security everywhere. Most days everybody was cranky. Lauren pushed through the solidarity and sulkiness by returning to moments in her past, changing something small, and seeing what unfolds. Sometimes her mind even drifted to the battlefield, as if she hadn’t deserted. These fantasies usually were short lived and always ended with her death.