Hometown

I'm in the town where I grew up, driving down the main street in an old silver car. Shops are to the left of us, and there is a park on our right, the tracks are along the edge of this. There is policetape everywhere, and crows of people are trying to see what has happened. The train tracks are completely blocked off, and there are policemen everywhere. A train is stopped on the tracks, its engines still running. And then I see it - there is a homeless man with a beard that has been hit by the train. The train ran clean over his body, slicing him through his stomach in a vicious diagonal line. I can see inside his body, although there seems to be no blood, and his dead eyes are staring at me. I shudder a bit, and continue driving down the road.

I am the passenger in the car as we drive towards the high school. When we arrive my friend asks me if this is my school. I tell him that I don't know - that I never remember arriving, I just always remember leaving at the end of the day. I remember that I usually go to the drug store, and ask them how to get to my highschool every day, and I tell him that. He points at some people outside the school, and asks if I recognize them. I say that I do, and we conclude that this really must be how I get to school. He's black, and everyone in the parkinglot is staring at him. For shock value, I kiss him, and snicker as I say, "Don't think they've ever seen a negro before." He laughs at this too - he's the scandal of the small town just be existing. I get out of the car, and everyone crowds around to get a better look at him, and look at me as though I'm very different from them.