Where Promises Must Glide

02 - Theo

The thing I hated the most in the world was moving.

I had enough of that shit growing up. As a military brat, it was all I did. Never once was I allowed to to get settled in one location for too long, having to move five times throughout high school.

So it would make sense that when I finally had the option to leave, I was going to make that location permanent. Except, life had other options for me. First, when my new job decided to relocate me to a different studio—blaming it on the fact that I would be better fit in the bigger city with my designs, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

But the pay was heighten, and I was already fully booked for the first week, so who was I to argue. The house I found was very quaint. Somewhat small, perfect for someone who was usually alone 24/7—plus a rare one hour when I would bring someone over from the bar or club. But like I said, rare.

It's nicer to be alone, easier to push everyone away. Some say that's a sad life to live, but those same people cry about heart breaks and broken promises.

So yes, it would be nice to wake up to the same face every morning, have someone cook you breakfast every once in a while, someone's hand to hold. But, you'd get attached, you'd get hurt eventually. I'm going to stick to my current system, since it's prevented many heartbreaks.

"Ok Mr, Callahan, that should be the last of the boxes," one of the moving men informed me. Actually, I had the last box, in my hand right here, but I wasn't going to correct him. The mover checked something off his clipboard before handing me the papers.

I already paid them, so I just watched as they loaded into the truck that used to have all the boxes to my home, and drove away.

Once dropping the box, I looked around at the place that was somewhat fully furnished. Of course, I was adding my own personal touch to the place, but it wasn't that important at the moment. All I cared was there was appliances—good ones too, according to my mother—and a couch and bed frame.

My own mattress was already put into the frame, so all I had left was decorating—which truly was the bane of my existence. I looked out side the window, taking a little dust off my blinds—mental note to clean that later—and saw the other houses around me.

Beautiful neighborhood, friendly neighbors and many children.

The words of the real-estate agents who kept trying to give me hints to something, maybe the perky breast that were begging to be freed from her white top were the notice she was trying to give me. Honestly, I'm not into blondes, but she was gorgeous nonetheless.

But lately, ever since my last relationship—which ended eight months ago—I've been more interested in casual hook ups than an actual relationship.

When looking out my window, I noticed a few families, one was having a gathering—assuming based on the tons of cars they had piled in there driveway and the side of the road—another, a mother and two kids, were playing in there front yard.

The kids were rolling around in the leftover snow from last nights storm, while the mother sipped on whatever was in the metal mug between her gloved hands. It looked nice, the pure joy beaming off these two kids face were enough to let a small smile escape mine.

I'm not one for sob stories. To be honest, I enjoyed most of my childhood. There were some parts that were better than others, but overall I'm not going to say I experienced anything traumatic.

The only thing I'd like to change would have been my father. He was great, went to work everyday, fought for our country, was a great man. But not a good father. He provided money, shelter, food for me to eat, and love for my mother. But that's where it stopped.