Somebody that I used to know [Trog]

Time: 10:11 AM

Caleb's eyes darted over to the door across the street. He stood leaned against a wall, fiddling with his phone, although this was mostly for show. he had stood here for almost five minutes, almost frozen in place. The young man was fully aware what he was just postponing the inevitable. He knew exactly what he had to do, and he had come far too far to turn back now, and this might be the only chance he would get to see her again. If it was even her, that was.

Even though his face had a rather dull, vacant expression, on the inside both his emotions and thoughts where racing a mile a minute. He was thinking about things that took place about four years ago, back when he had just turned twelve. That was when he had first made the aquaintance with N.K Wells. Although, back then he had known her as Naomi Wells, and she was the kid living next door to his grandparents, with whom he occasionally had spent the summer back when his parents went on vacation.

They had met during a neighborhood bbq hosted by Naomis (adoptive, she always stressed the 'adoptive') parents. Whilst there was other kids in the neighborhood, they knew each other already, thus leaving Caleb sort of out in the cold, Naomi had never been a part of their clique due to her being in a wheelchair, so the two of them had pretty much struck up a friendship out of necessity that day. However, afterward they had really hit it off.

To him Naomi had been the pinnacle of a sort of delinquent-variety coolness. She was cynical, angry and bitter and a talented artist to boot. and when you are twelve, fifteen-years are like gods, and to be invited to spend your time with one as an equal was something that only happened in the stories. The pair of them had been intensely close over the course of three months, but the next year her (adoptive) parents told him that she had simply up and left.

Still, he remember that she used to sign the comic she drew even back then with  "H.K Wells", just like the somewhat mysterious author behind the new comics comming out since about half a year back. And comming back here, brought her into the forefront of his mind for the first time in years.

However, the timespan was not the main reason of his hesitation. Even though the two of them had been close, Naomi had always had something of a cruel streak. She occasionally been vindictive and lashed out at him for little or no reason. She was both lovely and terrifying, and because she was so much older she had always been the undisputed leader of their little partnership. She had brought him to tears quite a few times, but she had always taken him back after pushing him away.

Now that he was older Caleb understood that Naomi's picture was probably next to the definition of "trouble" in the dictionary, and the very things that his younger self had admired about her, his current one recognized as the signs of a very broken personality. He just wanted to confirm that she had survived more than anything, because after she had disappeared he had been worried that she had ended up on the street, or even worse, dead.

He took one deep breath and stepped through the door. He would stick to the corner, just take a look at her and then get out. He was very unsure about how she would react if she recognized him, but she probably didn't remember him all that well. It had been so long ago, and he had been so small back then. He quickly saw the small que lined up at what was presumably her table, but he could not quite see over them so he sidled into the store, trying to find a vantage-point without getting too close, and when he did, his eyes confirmed what his mind had known all along!
There was no mistaking that white hair or the wheelchair.


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Caleb had been sitting in at the kitchen-table talking to his grandfather as the older man wiped the kitchen-counter clean The whole room smelled of garlic and  fried onions, his grandfather had always been rather keen on cooking, and his solution whenever his grandson was feeling down was to cook him something to eat. Caleb had accused his grampy of being ridiculous, since eating food had nothing to do with comfort, but time and time again, the old man had been proven right, and as the smell of food still filled the room, even though the delicious meal had been devoured.

He had told him about going to see the neighbor-girl, and unlike his parents who would either pressure him, give him unwanted advice, mock him or come with platitudes, his grandfather just nodded. The old man was a deceptively good listener. There was something about his heavy accent that was so very soothing. His mother had but a trace of it, and had done her best to remove every last trace, but every time Caleb had heard his grandparents speak he had considered getting rid of the accent a mistake.

That was until the accent asked him to take out the trash. Caleb did really not feel like it, but he might as well do it. If he argued he knewt hat he would end up doing it anyway. He grabbed the bag, atwisted the top and walked out of the house to toss the garbage in the trashcan by the curb He grunted as he heaved the heavy, disgusting stuff up, and even though his hands where completely clean, he wiped them against the breast of his jacket. He always felt filthy after hoisting garbage-bags for some reason.

He was just about to head back inside when he saw her. she was wearing glasses now, but it was undoubtedly Naomi. His heart rose and sank at the same time. What was he doing here all of a sudden?
but all those thoughts dissapeared as he saw her legs. She was walking. It was a miracle.

"Naomi, what're you. . . You're walking!" he blubbered confusedly. Even standing up she was of diminutive stature. Back when he had been a kid he had still been quite a bit bigger than her, but now the difference was even greater. She looked so small and vulnerable even out of her wheelchair.

As she noticed him, he smiled, nodded and gave her a lazy wave before walking back into the streets. It had deliberately been a very casual gesture, sort of like a "Hey, I know you from work, but I don't have time to speak, so I'll acknowledge your existence like this instead"-sort of thing. He then casually walked away, happy that she was going the other direction. Sure, they had been very close once upon a time, but that had been a million years ago, and talking to her now would just be awkward. After all, they had bonded on being lonely, somewhat antisocial nerd-losers, and now she was a famous comic-writer, she had made it. She was picked first for the proverbial basketball-teams, while Caleb was the one that ended up picked last. He had outgrown most of the misanthropy he had felt back then, so they would have nothing in common anymore, apart from being ridiculously clever.

It was very nice to see that she was still alive and doing well for herself. In a way it felt liberating that he did not have to worry about her anymore. Even though she had three years on him, he had felt as he was her crutch rather than the other way around. That she needed him more than he needed her, and for a young boy that is rather scary, even though he had idolized her back then. However, it felt rather weird that she had seen him too. He had hoped to do this incognito as to not get awkward, but that had gone out the window when she had noticed him. However, it felt good to have done it. He had set out to check up on her and he had done it. His mission was complete.

And so, when he got up on his moped and drove away, our Geeky little greasy-haired, spotty loser felt like a proper winner for once.

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Caleb was standing stunned as she slowly walked up towards him. The whole situation felt rather surreal for some reason, and even though his mind worked infinitely faster than that of a regular person it could not come up with nothing. This was simply too strange for him to have a proper reaction besides 'stand there and look dumbfounded' had she been capable of walking the entire time, or had she had some sort of surgery to make it possible. Cybernetics maybe? No, from what he had seen of her legs, they seemed to lack necessary muscle. It was very faint, but he was very perceptive. She was walking, but she was not using her muscles to do it

She stood in front of him now, her look defiant and somewhat aggressive. Back when they had played together he had called it her "You got a problem with that!?"-look, because that was usually the first thing that came out of her mouth after she had given someone that particular look. She then pushed him, and he fell like a chopped-down tree. Caleb was used to getting pushed and had excellent balance, not to mention the fact that even though he was far from a giant, he wa sprobably roughly twice her size. However, being as dumbfounded as he was, this was the last thing he had expected. He could feel the sharp hot pain from the skin of his palms as they scratched against the gravel and asphalt. he looked up at her as she ran off, then got to his feet, groaning in pain as he looked as his hands. one of them were bleeding, but only barely, and he knew that it felt worse than it was, but still. . .

She had pushed him.

Caleb took off after him, and unlike her, he was a pretty decent runner. He bent down to grab her glasses from the sidewalk. That was his excuse in case she got enraged at him. The sensible part of his brain said it would probably be best if he just went inside again, and considered this a finished chapter of his life, but he could not. He would not let it end like this. He did not shout at her, because he knew it would be pointless. but catching up to her would only be a matter of time. . .