[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - End of Camelot Edition


 ***PART 1*** 
 
 The snow battered my pale face, my light clothing barely protecting me from anything. I could barely see farther than 10 feet in front of me, i could see light posts lining the street for a good dozen yards, but nothing distinguishable. *Where the hell did this snow storm come from, it was n't supposed to snow today! * My eyes landed on a glass door, labeled `` Starbucks''. I pull open the door and stepped through, heat hitting me with surprise. I stomped my feet on the rug and walked to a table next to the window. I could spot other people walking around on the other side of the street, bundled up in heavy clothes. *How did they know it would snow*? I threw my backpack around me and put it on the table, opening it to reveal my Laptop. I took a moment to breath and catch-up and think about why I ’ m here. While doing that I took off my white zip-up hoodie and patted off the snow, dusting the floor. *What time is it? * I searched the room with my eyes but didn ’ t find a clock; I did see 7 other people here, most of them deep in a conversation. The scent of coffee hit me, making me drool. I've never been a guy for coffee; it's always tasted bad in my opinion, but the smell, that smell is just godly. 
 
 `` Jacob?'' a man said coming from somewhere behind me. I see a man covered in heavy winter clothing. *How did these people know it would snow!? * 
 `` Yes?'' I responded. 
 `` Hey,'' said the man, `` How've you been doin?'' He said putting his arms out to his side. 
 The man wore a heavy black coat, sporting a well kept beard and beanie, he seemed to be in his mid twenties Jacob deducted. 
 
 `` Uh, do I know you?'' Jacob embarrassingly said. 
 `` Of course you do, it's me man, Sam!'' He said pulling off his hat. 
 
 I realized who it was immediately, Sam, my childhood best friend, all the way up until the aftermath of college where we went our separate ways. We kept in touch for the first few weeks after college, but slowly stopped messaging each other. That was 3 years ago, I have n't even thought about him in months. 
 
 `` Oh my god, Sam! ” I said loudly, showing I ’ ve come to the realization it was in fact Sam. “ It's been what, 3 years? I didn ’ t think I'd see you again!'' I said, motioning for him to sit across from me in the booth. 
 
 He sat down with a smile and placed his hat on the glossy wooden table. 
 
 “ Man, ” Sam started, “ After we stopped talking, I thought the same thing…. I really didn ’ t think we would see each other again. Did you end up getting that internship? ” 
 
 “ Oh, nah, I didn ’ t. But I did get a job at a Tech firm. In-fact, I still work there today, great wage. ” I reached into my bag grabbing at the Laptop still in there and pulling it out. “ Lets hear what about you, what ’ ve you been doin? ” 
 
 He sat quietly for a few seconds, staring out the window into the snowy night, elbow supporting his head up. “ I ’ m a millionaire. ” 
 
 I sat quietly for a minute, processing what he had just said. He respected this and sat there too, quietly. I noticed that the snow had started bank up on the window, and the wall below that near our feet. I had always loved snow, no matter how cold or cruddy it was. I loved the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning and seeing it had snowed over night, there was no other feeling like it in the world. I decided it was time to respond to him, so I sat back and looked at him, saying, “ How ’ d you do it? ” 
 
 The next half-hour was me listening to him enthusiastically talk about what he did after college. Consisting of words like “ Invest ”, “ luck ”, and “ Stocks ”. I ’ ll admit I tuned out for most of it, still trying to understand how I coulda fallen so far behind, while my best friend went on to become a multi-millionaire. I felt severely jealous, almost hating him because he ’ s so rich. My heart finally cracked when he said he had a new set of friends. I too had a new set of friends, but I still deep down wanted him to be my best friend. I don ’ t remember the tears going down my face, but I realized I was crying after he paused midsentence. My shoulders we ’ re bouncing up and down, my cheeks covered in tears. I had put my forehead into my hands at some unknown time, shielding his view. 
 
 “ Y-you okay? Did I say something wrong? ” he asked sympathetically, but I knew he really meant it. Although I wasn ’ t able to manage any coherent words, he did get up and come over to comfort me. 
 
 “ Hey, you ’ re still my friend man. ” He began, “ Don ’ t worry about it so much, besides, now that we ’ ve met back up we can get back together and continue to catch up! ” 
 
 His statement had no effect on me; I continued crying like a little kid. People had started looking over at us, embarrassing Sam. “ Hey, it ’ s okay man. ” He said with a chuckle. His laugh got me to stop crying, it brought back memories of all the time we had spent together from Pre-school, all the way until we were out of college. 
 
 I took out a Sticky note and scribbled down my E-mail and phone number, handing it to him before shoving my laptop forcefully back into its bag. “ I ’ m going. ” I said with a depressed tone, not hiding my sadness. I threw my bag over my neck, letting the one strap rest on my shoulder. “ I ’ ll talk to you later… ” was all I managed before going outside. 
 
 The snow had come to a light fall, a drastic change from the blizzard that was going on a little more than half an hour ago. I could see as far as I could normally see, maybe a few yard less due to the natural blurriness of the snow. I pulled my hood over my head and started back to my motorcycle. Sometimes I wish I had saved up for a car like dad had said, but I wanted to impress some college girls. I would have sold this thing by now, but it ’ s almost like family to me. There ’ s just no way I ’ d be able to get rid of her. 
 
 The snow covered streets made it nearly impossible to drive down the street that was until now, covered in snow. A snow plow came driving down the streets, clearing the way. The truck also salted the streets, a large load of it on the back. As I started to pass the Starbucks, I looked inside. 
 
 *SCREEEEEECH. * 
 
 I jumped off my bike, abandoning it in the middle of the road, leaving it to the elements. I threw open the door and looked inside. The pool of blood was only a small puddle, but it was growing fast. The black gun gleamed in the light, held steady by a mans hand. I followed the mans arm until I reached a head. Before I even knew it, I was on top of the man, holding one hand on the mans neck and another on his right wrist, holding the gun down. I brought my knee up, throwing it into his chin. He yelled in pain, squirming to aim his weapon at me. *No, I ’ m not getting shot today; I ’ ve been hit one too many times. * I picked up the mans hand, letting it get to a dangerously close angle, and slamming it down on the floor as hard as I could. 
 
 *Bang* 
 
 
 A ringing noise ran through my head, a noise I ’ ve come too familiar with. I took a moment to see if any pain would shoot through my body. After a few seconds, I focused my attention back on the man below me. “ GET OFF ME! ” he yelled, making a demand I couldn ’ t fulfill. I quickly brought my left leg up, planting it on the mans hand. I kept my weight on his chest with my right knee on his chest, but made sure enough weight was on his hand at the same time. My right hand found its way to the mans cheek, landing with a *crack*. Damn how much I hate punching people, it *fucking* hurts. “ This is for Sam ” I said before slamming my left into his other cheek, sending pain through me and him. “ And this one ‘ cuz I *fuckin **feel*** like it ” I exclaimed, a smirk filling my face. My right landed on his cheek again, sending blood and a few teeth to go flying out of his mouth. His body lay motionless, his grip on the gone suddenly gone. His chest heaved up and down, trying to get air through with my knee still on him. *He ’ s still alive, thank goodness; he ’ s going to the cops right away. * 
 
 The gun slid across the Hardwood floor as I kicked it from the mans hand toward the barista and her counter. The rest of the shop was either huddled in the corner, which would be a bunch of girls, or a bunch of men in front of them. I chuckled at the stereotype type situation. I turned back to Sam, gripping his thigh. It seemed like an eternity had passed when I got to him. “ Where have you been shot and how many times ” I asked. I ’ ve been shot more than enough times to know how to care for them. 
 

