Love Shot X Shot of Love

Second home X Second home

His eyes remained laser focused on the unattractive stones under his feet. The stubbornness of him who lived as Mr. Ahmad increased steadily to his feet, while darting down with his hands resting on his hips, on his little girl.

Seeing that she would not budge, she stepped back after meeting her lips to Mac's mother, just for a moment. His steps were hesitant as he was a distant back, slowly taking in the side of the family he would leave behind until the summer. At least that's when Mac tells me he's coming back.

"All year of school. Ughhhh! This sucks."He had snatched at the break the day before.

I felt indifferent watching Mr. Ahmad, dressed in camo pants and a green suit that fit tightly to his waist, stepping into the vehicle waiting at the end of his driveway. I only met him once, so my thoughts mainly just stayed in the broken heart of my new friend.

A few months ago, it slowly dragged on day after day as I experienced the toxicity of being in elementary school. The girls trapped in our class made my fun out of my dreaded shame. Because, apparently, "never talking is weird, Zara."Turns out if you don't jabber your mouth off your weird.

Luckily I have a Mac. He became a welcome presence in my life from day one on the road. Another fact I quickly realized.

Mac needed an outcast friend, who explained his desire to get me into his life from day one.

It didn't take long until her home became my second home, housing our frequent sleepovers.

His grief over his father's passing lingered over him every day. For most eyes, it is undetectable, but I can always see behind the glittering, cheerful mask it depicts.

His mother is .. okay. Well, maybe not okay. Maria. Mary was like a witch. Seriously, hiding what thoughts might be muddled inside, her mother was straight forward and blatantly direct. His opinion never went unnoticed, not with the sight of the remains grated to his speckled face.

She's scary. So too with Ahmad. But in two opposite ways.

But the Mac House is still better than mine. With my mother walking like she didn't know where she was going half the time. Then there was my brother who quickly developed a sense of dread with my little spotted friend. And not in a cute way, boy. creepy kind of way up.

"Um, Muiz kinda scared me, Zara."They were Mac's words after Muiz released an unholy amount of cockroach, which he ate to the monitor lizard, into my bed, we shared the First, And Last, The Mac night sleeps in my house.

I remember the day he ran to me at the playground while I was hanging upside down in the monkey bar. The bright and blinding colors of her clothes caught my attention because she turned the body that was tied to me. I remained hanging, my long hair flowing in wisps down, just grazing tips onto the gravel below.

"ZARA! ZARA! ZARA!"he arrived from the breath. I was surprised to see her energetic self, seeing that she had been invited by her mother for lunch.

"My father! He's going home!!"he's all but screeched into my ears. His body is now bent in half so he can squeeze inches of red face off of my own.

I turned around gracefully, landing right at my feet. "He's coming home?”

He nodded so earnestly I was afraid his head would fly and shoot confetti as it fell through the air. "Yup! That's why my mom checked me out. To tell me he's coming home next week!

"Isn't that earlier than it should be?”

"Yes, mom said she and some of her friends had a change of plan or something, so now they'll be back early!"I was then given a joyful dance.

I realized when I was watching the show that I had never been to Mac's house while her father was there. I soon realized the nerves that triggered my body with the thought of his father were present as well.

I told him at least, like twenty times, to relax. But his joy is unobstructed and contagious. He still danced with endless energy the whole house on the bus. I left him tied up until his front end as we parted. A smile on my face.

Her spirit made all sad when late that evening, as I placed my pink luxury bed in my mostly empty room, a knock rang out at my door. It was three beats.

Her eyes remain laser focused on the uninteresting stones below her feet. Her stubbornness retaining as Mr. Ahmad rises steady to his feet, glancing down with his hands rested on his hips, at his little girl.

Seeing she’s not going to budge, he steps back after meeting his lips to that of Mac’s mother, just for a second. His steps hesitant as he backs away, slowly taking in the sight of the family he’ leave behind until summer. At least that’s when Mac told me he’d be coming back.

“The whole rest of the school year. Ughhhh! This sucks.” She had grumbled at recess the day before.

I felt indifferent watching Mr. Ahmad, dressed in camo pants and a matching green shirt tucked tightly into his waistband, step into the awaiting vehicle at the end of his driveway. I had only met him once, so my thoughts just linger on my heart broken new friend.

A few months past, slowly dragging day by day as I ended the toxicity that is elementary school. The stuck up girls in our class made fun of me for my dreaded shyness. Because, naturally, “never talking is weird, Zara.” Turns out if you don’t jabber you’re mouth off you’re strange.

Fortunately I had Mac. She became a welcome presence in my life since that first day on the street. Another fact I became quickly aware of.

Mac needs a fellow outcast, which explores her awareness to incorporate me into her life from day one. It didn’t take long until her house became my second home, housing our frequent sleepovers.

Her sorrowfulness towards her dad’s department hovered over her every day. To most eyes it’d be unnoticeable, but I could always see behind the glittery, cheerful mask she portrayed.

Her mom was. Well, maybe not okay. Maria. Maria like the witch.serious, hiding what thoughts might be stirring inside, her mom’s was straight forward and blatantly direct. Her opinions never went unnoticed, not with the scowl permanently scarred - on her freckled face.

She was scary. And so was Mr. Ahmadis. But in two totally opposite ways.

Yet Mac’s house still was better than mine. With my mom walking around like she doesn’t know where she’s going half the time. Then there’s my brother who quickly developed an innovation with my small freckled friend. And not in a cute, little boy way. kind of creepy up way.

“Um, Muiz kind of freaking me out, Zara.” There were Mac’s words after Muiz unleashed an unholly amount of cockroaches, which he feeds to his lizards, into my bed we shared the first, and last, night Mac slept at my house.

I remember the day she ran to me at the playground while I was hanging upside down on the monkey bars. The bright, blinding colors of her clothes caught my attention as her flipped around body bounded towards me. I remembered hanging, my long hair flowing in wisps down, just grazing its tips to the pebbles below.

“ZARA! ZARA! ZARA!” she arrives out of breath. I’m surprised to see her energetic self, seeing that she had been picked up by her mom for lunch.

“My dad! He’s coming home!!” she all but screeched into my ear. Her body now bent in half so she can press her reddened face inches from my own.

I flip around gracefully, landing squarely on my feet. “He’s coming home?”

She nodes so vigorously I’m afraid her heads going to fly off and shoot confetti as it tumbles through the air. “Yup! That’s why my mom checked me out. To tell me he’s coming home next week!

“Isn’t that way earlier than he was supported to?”

“Yeah, mom said him and some of his buddies had a change of plans or something, so now they’re coming back sooner!” I’m then graced with the happiest of happy dances.

I realize as I watch the show that I’ve never been to Mac’s house while her dad was there. I’m immediately aware of the nerves that spark in my body at the thought of her dad being present as well.

I told her at least, like twenty times, to relax. But her joy was unstoppable and contagious. She was still dancing with endless energy the whole bus ride home. I left her bounding up to her front porch as we parted ways. A smile on my face.

Her enthusiasm made it all the sadder when later that evening, as I laid on my pink plush bed in my otherwise mostly empty room, a knock sounded at my door. It was a timid three taps.