My Guy

I struggled as quietly as possible so the cool November air wouldn’t carry the noise to the guards around front. Not being young anymore, it was really hard to lift myself through the side window. In my haste, I had ended up stuck in place–one leg hanging on either side of the extra-wide sill–as my torso contorted like a goddam mummenschanz.

After several convulsions, I eventually squirted through and landed with a grunt inside the dimly-lit school hallway. I pushed myself up from a kneel with one hand to reach my feet. At least no one saw that.

“Stop there!” barked Jimmy. I rolled my eyes as his voice echoed off the trophy cases and down the hall. Of course, it would be Jimmy.

His doughy form was covered in tight-fitting para-military camo. Plates of black plastic and plexiglass with big-button pouches were held together with various straps that hung off his form like a low-rent cosplayer.

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