In The Depths

Loneliness is like a deep dark void, with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. As much as I try, I just get deeper into the depths of loneliness, and into the depths of my soul. I just want to get out. I don't deserve this.


2. Little Crumbs

Sometimes actions are so ridiculously boring that the mind wanders deep into space. As I sweep the many crumbs off the floor, I think of each individual one. Every little crumb came from a different piece of food, coming from somewhere far away, or maybe even closer than I think. Maybe that item of food took months to make, and now this crumb from it would be going in the trash, then into the dump, then somewhere getting burnt, turned into fuel.

I keep sweeping, watching as the crumbs get pushed against my tan shoes.

The theater is dark. Most of the lights are off, except for the small crack of light coming from backstage. I can hear the actors mindlessly chatting and laughing, the sound gradually rising into a crescendo so rich that I feel envious. I want to be with them, laughing and drinking and talking about the play they just put on. But instead, I am in between audience chairs, sweeping up crumbs of over-expensive food.

The almost silent click of a pair of shoes arouses me from my thoughts. I look up, to be greeted by a boy quiet taller than me, with a head of so many curls that I wonder if he manually curls it himself.

“Hi,” I say, setting the broom down against the back of a chair. It falls, crashing to the floor. He laughs, I blush. “Do you need anything? The lobby is behind the double doors.”

“No, I’m fine.” His voice comes out raspy and deep, the total opposite of my petite, squeaky speech. “I’m just here with my sister.”

“Does she act here?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his finger playing with his bottom lip, squeezing it around. I wonder if it’s a bad habit of his, like my habit of always bending my wrists in the gayest way possible. I look down- realizing I’ve been doing it this whole time. Way to go, Louis. “She was the lead.”

“Dorothy?” The play that was just performed was The Wizard of Oz, of course it’s Dorothy. No wonder I am so lonely, I make the worst first impressions ever.

“No, the witch.”

“Wait, what? You said-”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, crossing his ankles. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” I force myself to laugh a bit, to seem at least a small bit appealing. The boy stares down at me. I look at my shoes, the tips now dirty with dirt and crumbs. Stupid crumbs.

“What’s your name?” He asks, his hand now at his side again, away from his mouth but closer to his skinny jeans.

“Louis,” I state, standing up a bit straighter. “Like King Louis.”

“Hm,” he licked his lips. “I’m Harry, like Harry Potter.”

I let him shake my hand and I play it cool, but in my head I’m quite excited because I’m finally getting a friend. Well, maybe I’m getting a friend. This may just be some girl’s brother who randomly met me in a theater.

“Harry!” I jerk my head up to see a girl, most likely Harry’s sister, on the other side of the theater. “Harry. Mom’s waiting outside.”

“I thought you brought your car,” Harry yells back.

“That was mom’s car.”

“Then how-”

“Just come already!” She walks out the double doors, and I catch a glimpse of the lobby, decorated with posters of The Wizard of Oz.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, rocking on his heels. His feet are so long compared to my stubby ones, I notice. “That’s Gemma, my sister.”

“Ah,” I nod, a bit of feathery hair falling into my eyesight. I swipe it away with the hand this isn’t against the chair. “Um, are you going to be here tomorrow for the next showing?”

“Yeah. I always have to be with her,” He rolls his eyes. “You’ll be here?”

“Yeah, after the show I will. I’ll be either here, sweeping, or if I’m not here I’ll be with my manager, who is also my boss, talking about work. But, I’ll be out here after, though. Maybe you’ll have to wait a bit.” I was rambling.

“Louis,” he laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I smile a bit, and he smiles back, a dimple popping out against his smooth looking cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye, Louis.”

After that, I was no longer thinking about crumbs, but rather about the tall boy named Harry, with the adorably stupid curls. 

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