Black Cherry Soda
School is finally over. I walk over to my locker. Locker number 206. 12-2-32 right left right. It’s 2:45 PM and I have to meet Brooke at 3 PM. I speed walk out the massive foam-green front door trying to remember to use my muscles to open it. I say bye to the security guards, but as usual they just look at me. I walk past Yogurt-land thinking about how good frozen strawberry yogurt would taste even in the winter. Every street is white and covered with snow. I cross a red light and now I’m on Third Street. I look up at the trees and I notice how lonely they look without their leaves. I’m meeting Brooke at our usual place, a café called s’Nice. I’m just a block away and I can see the brick-stone restaurant on the corner.
I can taste the fizzing black cherry soda that waits for me there, mhmm, and picture catching up on the latest gossip and writing about whatever comes to our minds. “I’m almost there,” I say to myself, wishing that the snow would stop.
