“Ex- excuse me?” The young woman asks, her facemask muffling her soft Yorkshire accent. “Can — can we get a selfie with you, please?” I allow myself a small chuckle as I turn to face the asker of the question — a girl barely older than sixteen, standing with three others of her age. All of them are wearing t-shirts with cartoon caricatures on the front and, even though I can’t see them, angel wing prints on the back, just like all t-shirts promoting the group I tried — and failed — to join.

Shadowsblade a Whateley Tale: Written by Shadowsblade

Created for war and forged in pain, dealing with demons within and without.

“So… exactly how many high school fantasies are we fulfilling right now?” Paul asks as I tune my bass guitar, and I can’t help but smirk as I can already guess how the impending argument will go.

“Bit inappropriate to ask about MY high school fantasies, but I’ll let it slide,” Stuart replies, and I sense my opportunity to chip in.

“If it helps, Paul, I’m wondering the same thing,” I say, chuckling at the mock-offended look on my mentor’s face.

“…Okay, yes, every music student dreams of playing in a garage band in an actual garage,” Stuart concedes.

Alco’s Self Storage:
“Man, I am so sore from moving all those heavy boxes and that piano.” Rustie looks at Ivy as he sweeps up the last of the trash in the second locker.

Rustie didn’t know that when someone bought a storage locker, they had to throw away all the trash in the locker as well. It was a good thing the storage unit manager had a wheel barrel they could use to haul all the trash to the dumpster.