Flashbacks

The boy spread out his big, yellow and white coat on the grass near the mall parking lot and lay down, half in the sun, half in the shade. Perfect. He slipped off his shoes and socks, tied them together and set them near his head, one hand twined in the shoelaces so they couldn't disappear while he napped. After a quick glance around the parking lot, he closed his eyes and relaxed, quickly dropping off into a light sleep.

Coming home from a long day at school. Jaron unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed it open. The presence of Jake's backpack on the couch told Jaron his roommate was home, probably shut up in his room, which he and Mark had nicknamed "The Cave" because of the amount of time Jake spent in it. Jaron had to smile to himself at the familiar routine as he dropped his backpack on the floor by the door, slipped off his shoes, and went into the kitchen for a snack.

Mark wasn't home yet, but Jaron didn't expect to see him until dinnertime. Munching on a handful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, he wandered into The Cave to see what Jake was up to.

The scene changed.

He was sitting on the grass outside the main building of his apartment complex, listening to Jake strum his guitar. Jake had only been playing for a year or so, but the self-taught Tennessean had already worked up a respectable repertoire of songs, including two he'd written himself. He picked up new melodies fast, and the fact that most of the accompaniments he knew were just chords didn't slow him down at all. Jaron knew it wouldn't be long before Jake moved on to combining chords with individual notes, but he didn't think much about it.

At that moment, nothing mattered but the sound of the guitar.

Another change; another memory.

"Does Mark even remember I have a concert?" Jake asked. Something in his voice told Jaron his roommates' support mattered to Jake. Mattered a lot.

"He told me yesterday he was going, Jake," Jaron said, and some of the lines on Jake's face relaxed. "I'll be there too."

Jake nodded and gave a half-smile. "I bet you can't wait for it to be over," he said. "You're probably as sick of this song as I am."

It was probably true. Jake had been practicing hard for two weeks. Most of his practice took place outside the apartment, but Jaron still felt he'd heard the song Jake was performing a million times.

"Nah," he said. "I'm not that tired of it."

"Liar." Jake grinned.

Mark and Jaron were both in the audience at the concert the following night, as promised. So were Jake's grandmother and aunt, who lived nearby.

It was fantastic.

Jaron stirred slightly as a public transportation bus rumbled past to the stop only about two hundred feet from where he lay. He opened his eyes just in time to see a brown-haired girl in a black hat looking out at him from one of the big black windows. Their eyes met. She looked thoughtful.

The bus stopped and several people got off. None of them were the girl. Some people got on, the doors closed and the bus drove away. Jaron lowered his head, closed his eyes, and was soon asleep as fast as he'd awoken. Dreaming of another time and place.