Dolls

I can see the city from where I am.

My suitcase makes a dragging sound. I move hesitantly, trying not to look at the view that nauseates me. I enter the room and I see they've placed mannequins of people on chairs, to make the room look full. There are plaster heads, too, on top of tables.

They're just dolls, I say to myself trying not to panic. I sit tight.

Finally, they call my name and I am to board. But when I reach in my pocket, I don't have a ticket. I only have four movie tickets and they're all torn up.

Return Ticket

"What day is it?"

"Sunday," David says to my panicked face.

"I have work tomorrow," I say and I scuttle about gathering my beach things and I realize I don't have a return ticket.

I think it through. David is no use. "Call the airline," he says and goes out to surf.

I go through my things again. Then I find my class schedule and and form indicating that I have been missing all my classes and that my diploma will be revoked. I don't understand. I go around the room, picking things up, thinking of who to call, feeling shame and guilt at my irresponsibility. I imagine my fastidiousness will make up for my negligence.