Max is 16. He gazes at the sky while pondering what to write in the chat. What other excuse can he come up with to avoid going to the movies with everyone? It's not that he's busy; it's just that there are so many thoughts, some of them so heavy that he feels literally stuck in place. Yesterday, his mom asked him to clean up and help with something... he forgot to do anything, forgot everything. He went to bed at 1 AM, playing games, then thinking, then playing again to avoid thinking. A year ago, he played tennis, chess, and looked forward to summer camp. What happened? Where is all that energy, that desire to try everything? Max feels like he can't move at all...
Suddenly, Anya texted, inviting him to her birthday party. In an instant, everything came flooding back—the desire to live, to play chess with her, to dance at the school disco. What if she’s going to the movies too? Good thing he hasn’t responded yet. He got ready in five minutes.
Max’s mom was cautiously searching for a needle she’d accidentally dropped at the wrong time. Max flew past her, grabbing his jacket as he went. Sometimes he’s lying around, sometimes he’s running, she thought. Just like time. A teenager… I’ll keep dinner warm. He ate at midnight last night; I worried for nothing. Max’s mom poured herself a glass of wine, turned on a TV series, and as usual decided not to wait for him, though of course, she only fell asleep after he returned. And Max knew this too, even when he said that living with his parents was the worst.
Love sometimes takes quirky forms, catching those fleeting moments to flash by and stay… until better times.
Suddenly, Anya texted, inviting him to her birthday party. In an instant, everything came flooding back—the desire to live, to play chess with her, to dance at the school disco. What if she’s going to the movies too? Good thing he hasn’t responded yet. He got ready in five minutes.
Max’s mom was cautiously searching for a needle she’d accidentally dropped at the wrong time. Max flew past her, grabbing his jacket as he went. Sometimes he’s lying around, sometimes he’s running, she thought. Just like time. A teenager… I’ll keep dinner warm. He ate at midnight last night; I worried for nothing. Max’s mom poured herself a glass of wine, turned on a TV series, and as usual decided not to wait for him, though of course, she only fell asleep after he returned. And Max knew this too, even when he said that living with his parents was the worst.
Love sometimes takes quirky forms, catching those fleeting moments to flash by and stay… until better times.