I don't own anything but myself. Enjoy!
"What a day!" Muttered Rowen Hashiba as he walked up the creaky steps of the apartment that he and his father shared. It was Sunday, a bleak rainy Sunday that mirrored Rowen's frame of mind. Rowen pushed open the door and stepped slowly into the uncaring embrace of his apartment. As usual nobody was there to greet him. Rowen sighed and threw his coat on the floor, not caring that there was a brass coat hook hanging near his head.
Rowen repeated his sigh of discontent for what seemed like the billionth time that say as he crept toward his bedroom. He threw himself upon his bed and stared at the plastic glow-stars that artfully dotted his ceiling. I wish I could get away, he thought as he picked out plastic constellations, even just for a while.
As if to answer his prayers the phone rang shrilly throughout the apartment, startling Rowen from his reverie. Rowen thought about letting it ring, but after the third ring he heaved himself up from his nest and got the phone.
"Hello." Rowen said as cheerfully as he could manage.
"Hey Ro-kun." Answered a familiar voice.
"Yes dad?" Asked Rowen, knowing fully well what was about to take place.
"I'm sorry Rowen, but work is very hectic. I'm going to have to pull an all nighter at the lab tonight", Rowen's father sounded apologetic.
"But Dad you haven't come home for four days now!", Protested Rowen halfheartedly. He knew it would do no good to argue or protest. It never had before and probably wouldn't start now.
Oh, sure he wanted his dad to be there for him like all the other fathers out there. It would have been nice to have had his dad attend his basket ball games or to even eat dinner with him. Rowen knew that he just wanted to much.
Rowen had never been apt at making friends, and as a result he had few. It was kind of depressing, but Rowen was used to it. He was usually the odd one out or the one that waas forgotten. In a weird sort of way he almost liked being left to himself. The empty sky of dreams would comfort him in a way that nothing else could. But it was kind of lonely.
Rowen hung up with his father. How would he spend the rest of his evening? He was just about ready to continue picking out constellations when he remembered about old Mrs. Hanager. She was a lonely soul, too, and loved company. Rowen used to go over and listen to her stories and eat her out of house and home. Lately he'd been in a slum and had not gone to visit her in a while.
Jolted by a sense of purpose he dug with renewed vigor he got ready to go pay a visit to Mrs. Hanager. Her swiftly walked away from his apartment and toward the duplex where she lived. It was only a few blocks away.
Rowen thought, as he walked, about his first meeting with Mrs. Hanager. She was a plump grey old lady with weary eyes and a black cane that helped her get about. It was at the local supermarket, and she had left her glasses behind. She was blindly trying to read the print on a box. It was to no avail. She squinted and blushed as Rowen cast a glance her way.
"Young Man," She had said in her strong sharp voice, " I left me glasses at the house, could you spare an old lady such as myself a moment?"
Rowen had smiled and read the box for her. It was rather amusing, the way those two got along. Almost uncanny. They both were uncurable star gazers, hated dogs, and loved cats. And they both loved to argue. Together they could get anyone to laugh at their antics.
Rowens lips twisted upward as he remembered the kindly lady. Yes, it was high time for a visit. He'd neglected his one true friend. So what if he'd been all depressed and lonely? She probably could have cured that. He felt really guilty about abandoning her.
Suddenly, he was there staring at the dingy duplex.