S.c.r.a.t.c.h

“You’re breaking up with me?”

Devyn wrenched his fingers from the snagging confirms of his rough mid-length hair. Breaking contact with those piercing blue eyes, he noted two… three, happy couples, all chatting away in half-hushed tones.

One-outta-four. Great job Devyn, fantastic…

The girl across the table smiled conciliatorily.

I thought this was it… The one…

“Devyn…” she said, her voice dripping with pity, “It’s just not working.”

Devyn tried resisting the urge to say, “That’s what she said”. In that, he half failed, blurting, “What?”

She sighed, “Devyn, you’ve been in relationships before, right?”

No kidding, but we didn’t go out for long enough for me to tell about them.

“Uh, yeah.”

“So you must know this happens sometimes. We’re just not compatible.”

Oh god, not the “compatible” talk again. Don’t say something stupid this time, Devyn...

“Save it.”

Crap…

She blanched, “What?”

Might as well roll with it.

Devyn stood, “Save it. I’ve heard the compatible talk before. You’re all the same,” He spat, before suddenly becoming wary of the glances and glares coming his way. With forced ignorance to them, he glared at the girl.

Great, so I look like the dumper. Loser and jerk at the same time, brilliant.

“Rachel, goodbye,” With that, Devyn dragged out his collapsible nul-grav board from his backpack and jumped upon it, floating away a foot above the ground.

“What? I dumped you! Not the other way ‘round! Come back here!”

But Devyn was already gone.

Rachel remained seated for a while after Devyn left, steaming with anger. Once the thicket of on-lookers had cleared, she threw down money for the drinks, stood, and stalked away.

Drifting aimlessly through the town he called home, Devyn gazed to the darkening sky. He could never go out with such grace as the sky; a majestic flow of colours, like spilt ink in slow motion. Colours mingled without prejudice, pink and red and purple, all gathered around the diminishing light like family at a deathbed.

His rundown mood led him to the nearby beach, a golden sandy spot that allowed an unobstructed view of the retreating sun.

When had his life started to roll downhill? How long ago had he set himself on this one-way railroad of disappointment and depression, its train with capacity only for one?

His anguish seemed to fuel the wind, disturbed sand was whirling a hurricane pattern around him. The uncertain winds suddenly threw the cloud upon him, and he flailed a stupidly insignificant defence, almost falling off his board.

Coughing, he cursed his luck and life in general.

An unmistakable feeling crept its fingers up Devyn’s neck. He leapt from his board, fists curling around invisible necks in frustration towards his predicament in life.

A hazy figure raised a hand, the windswept sand turning the gesture into something more.

Something more... Devyn used to be content with his life, maybe even happy. Now, the stable rock had crumbled, leaving him wishing things were different, better, happier.

His family had been typically American in almost every way. Father went to work, clad in the psychological suit of armour that was his business suit. Mother stayed home in stereotypical domestic housewife fashion. Devyn went to school, just popular enough to survive the primal environs, just smart enough to pass tests, just fit enough to get chosen for sports teams.

As he got older, “his” group of friends faded away, snatched from him by “Moving away” and “New job”

By the time Devyn was out of school he was a lone wolf, a lonely soul with no one…

“Hey! Dev!”

Well, almost no one.