Here, hold this.

Prompt  #9: "What a character holding a blue object is thinking."

It's no big deal, it's just a quick favor. Don't be weird about it. Is there a way I can hold this and not be weird about it? Should I hold it out like this? No, that looks like I'm trying to hand it to someone. Maybe just down by my side. No, now it looks like it's mine. I look way too comfortable with it. Not that I'm not comfortable with it. I just don't want to seem too comfortable with it. I know: elbow at my side and hold it away from myself slightly. Wait no, that's even weirder, now I look like posing for something. Oh, I can just put it at my feet. I don't have to actually hold it, after all. Wait, no they'll think that's a little rude. I mean, it is a little rude, I guess. But still, how long am i meant to hold it? It's getting a little heavy. What do they even have in here? Am I allowed to look? No, probably not. That's invasive. But, then again, they did give it to me. I am it's primary caretaker. How am I supposed to take care of something I know so little about? I could probably shake it a bit and get a good guess going. Yeah, just one little shake. I'll just yank the handle and give it a listen. Huh... sounded like a bunch of metal and plastic. I'm actually pretty bad at this "shake-and-guess" game, as I recall from every christmas ever. Plus, they just looked over to see if I dropped it. Just wave and smile, everything is fine. Hurry up, though. I wont say it out loud, but I think my eyes said it because they rolled theirs at me. Why even bring this if you aren't going to hold it for the majority of the time? Oh, here they come. I'll just smirk and hold this out. Maybe I'll make a funny joke asking if this goes with my shoes. Perfect delivery. They think I'm hilarious. Here are your belongings, madame.


What an idiot.

Roommate

Prompt #8: "The Long-Lost Roommate"

To the outside observer, it's a simple gesture. Truth is, there's a deeper hidden meaning behind the subtle nodding salutation that they give each other as they pass. It's not bromance, they aren't blood brothers, or even part of a wolf pack. No, those two gentlemen were roommates once. 

Whether it was for years, for months, or even for a few days. They shared a space commonly not much larger than a hotel room. At the beginning they upheld a sense of normalcy for each other. It was a kindness, it was polite. They used headphones when listening to music or watching movies. They kept their laundry as out of the way as possible. The beginning was a tense peace. Both held back their oddities, hoping that the other would soon show some sign of abnormality so they could breath easy, letting their metaphorical gut of uniqueness hang out.

Soon, it happened. Maybe one of them accidentally left the headphones out and their computer began playing 'My Heart Will Go On' on full volume, and they frantically muted it as the other gave them a look showing they were unsure what to think. Maybe one of them walked in as the other was just finishing getting undressed for the shower. Perhaps it was as innocent as passively quoting an obscure film and having that reference unexpectedly recognized. No matter what it was, the flood gates had opened.

They were freer now, and it was both a blessing and a curse. It freed them to show the uniqueness of themselves. One started playing an instrument the other had no idea existed... or could get so loud. The other would start displaying some figurines they had collected from a nostalgic medium they loved as a child... and they took up quite a bit of room on the shared desk. They soon found freedom to passively and actively express themselves. The figurines would get shoved aside, and soon the other one would claim to know that he had no idea putting a wooden pan-flute by the humidifier would warp the pipes.

But there is an unspoken law among them. Certain things can be said in the outside world. They can say the other one snores horribly. They can say the other one keeps a trash pile around the trash can. But certain things would stay secret to them forever. Some so secret, in fact, that even they would be hard pressed to remember what exactly they had locked so deep in the vault.

It's been decades now, and they don't speak as often as they used to, and they most certainly don't see each other nearly as often. They might meet at a party, pull each other in for a quick one-armed hug and a pat on the back. They might meet in a formal setting, and give each other a firm shake of the hand. But these meetings are always punctuated with the specific seal. The nod. The nod that they will give, no matter what the circumstances. It follows each salutation, as well as stands on it's own should they merely pass on the street someday. 

The nod that says "I acknowledge." They acknowledge all that had happened. They acknowledge the time spent. They acknowledge their perseverance. They acknowledge each other as something close to, but somehow unlike friends. It is a deeper, and somehow darker connection. One that is mentioned in passing. "He was my roommate a while back". A few anecdotal stories are told perhaps, but nothing deeper. There are stories that can only be understood by those who made them, after all.

Besides no one wants to hear about how your buddy locked you out of the room in a towel like... eleven times in a week. Why are you in a towel that often anyway? That's almost twice a day, bro. And seriously, just take the keys with you. They have hooks in the showers. It ain't hard science.

'Towed'-ally over the line.

Prompt #7 "Something that you've had stolen from you."

I don't think I've ever had something stolen from me. Not anything important, anyway, otherwise I think I would remember it. However, I do remember a time something was rightfully taken from me, but it is the closest I've come to feeling like I've been robbed.

A few years ago, I was visiting a good friend at his apartment in a town about an hour away from my home. I parked in the apartment's parking lot, as I had done at least once before, and went inside and played video/card games with him and his roommate for several hours. We decided to go out to eat along with getting some outdoor filming done, and when I was walking to their car, I noticed that mine... was missing.

For a few minutes they said that we should call the cops, and its odd my car got stolen because it wasn't a very bad neighborhood at all. Then, my friend realized that you had to have a permit to park in the lot. This was news to me, and I made it known to him that it would have been nice to know. He said it would have been. The sign that said it was a permit zone was both bent and partially obscured. We called the company and they were about thirty minutes away, and their hours of operation ended in two hours. However, they were closing early that day. I asked why. They said that they wanted to get off early. I said that they can't close early just because they want off when I have a car to pick up. They said it wasn't their problem. This angered me. In fact, I'm angry just thinking about it. What kind of horrible business plan is that? I mean, I know you aren't exactly shooting for return customers at a towing company, but come on, really?

Anyway, it cost me (read: my parents) a few hundred to get it back and it was one of the worst things that ever happened to me mostly because of the horrible service they gave, and how I now view all towing companies as horrible portals into another realm where being a complete tool is not only acceptable but encouraged.

... Anyway... that's a time something was 'stolen' from me.

Thanks for reading!
~Kyle