That night was a fall back. Dark and the out pour was like rat chasing a croch. The lighten was hard and windscreen blinding.
It beat in the leaven hard and rolling like water ball on the glass windows. Through the grass like flood, is stream through broken plastic cups and un-feast meats that pinch the fields.
Rain beat the steel nude table down to the run heels, drawn it nylon fabric attire. Yet reflect to the frames.
Yet_ it sounded distant.
Anna couldn't sleep. Her body weight war with her eyes, excitement voo her veins and pump her heart unevenly.
This adrenaline.
She felt it.
She did it.
Her lips parted a squeal, kickin' the bed sheet from her leg but with his silent celebrate she notice her son beside her shift uncomfortably.
Paused_like a child caught stealing cookie_ due_ she would be lead by craving.
" Dean?" She called out.
But_ it was only meet with slience as his back faces her's.
She arranged the blanket over his shoulder and kiss his forehead. Her hand linder on his thick coils; and set aside a metal note to get his a new hair cream to soften the knot.
Anna observed his gentle breath and peaceful sleep and She smiled.
" Thank you." Anna mutter then residing to her sleeping position.
Is was still. Lighten sounded from the must distance and the window boggled of the wind.
she squealed even louder kickin' just. anything that covered herself from the cold night.
" Tonight was the best." " The best." " The BEST." She sing out but cover her mouth when Dean shrug.
Her eye drift through to a photo frame. Is was of one with her ex husband, she and a child. They all worn a cowboy fashioned and look ridiculous as they played with a water host.
Her smile edge has a slight fall.
The class was ice. Dean was all ready to stick to it. He absorb every knowledgeable and practical he could.
No body sat with him, no body talked to him and it was enough.
He didn't care.
When class ends he stick to the library and when school ended he stick to finding a job , like today.
Dean started at himself in the mirror and indeed he saw what he expected to see.
A young man with thick coil that fell to his forehead, a baby fat face and a bit chubby body and big stomach that stick from the fade baby pink sleeves.
Dean sigh. Shaking his head with his eyes close.
They parted and he glared to the mirror. He saw something he missed.
In the mirror, he was a growing black boy, like his mother would say and he smiled at that fact.
A trip to SILO takes a long trek making about 30 km form his home. With no cash for fare, Dean was ready to take a walk there as public transportation have fuse to be too uncomfortable.
The sun painted boldly on the clear sky sharping every shadow. Heat was thick almost spurry to his skin is stick to his back as dust rose to his shoe.
Sweat drip down his neck as Dean adjusted his collar.
His skin prick and his throat pave way of thirst. But_ he had no money so he scope his his saliva.
His eyes filter through the busy street of Le Havre. One with no romantic but more real people.
Narrowed, Dean could sight sun-bleached streets lined with pale stone houses—cream, beige, light honey colors.
Most occupied with people and pigeons. He doesn't like pigeons.
A few old men sitting outside cafes, hats pulled low, small glasses of pastis on their tables but nor touch theirs and seem invested in the game.
One could tell is intense.
Just beside the cat stretching beside a window frame, about to pee like a dog: the owner of the cafe chase it away.
The air carried the smell of warm bread and some vinegar, and ripen cheese.
Dean savour the smell rather regretful.
Distance laughter of children, bikes lay to the heat cobble walls, the click of time.
All was Le Havre an.. He's here.
Feet weary, throat thirsty. Sweat airy his back and armpit. The beautiful of Le Havre couldn't stop the lump in his throat.
His heart pump, his phone ring of calls but he couldn't. Not now, Dean glare set at the store across.
Every pave hit brightly to the sun as glass outstretched from the wide width to the height.
Spotless. It's matte black cream frame give a rather luxury look due minimalist.
Yet a single loge written about a stretch act of a man with clippers to his hair. Fairly white.
SILO.
It's olive tree at the side was supposed to give a friendly feeling. Everything was supposed to give it but it looked threatened.
Like really bad. His mom was calling again.
He would talk to her at home but now ...
Dean could feel doubt creeping within the back of his mind and flashes of his expected failure flash before his eyes like and hologram.
And it wasn't encouraging. Nor had ever being.
This was new. Not the finding of job but this place. Somewhere open, popular.
Would they even hire him?
How would they greet him?
Would they welcome him or would they kick him out?
Why I'm thinking, just go in?
What I'm I doing here?
I hate this...
Aah...
Dean shook his head and adjust his glaze to the building.
" I can do this." And he crossed.
Like in any other time, he would walk away. And if any second thoughts, is too late because he walking through the door.