Holy Land Ch 1 Part 4"Why would anyone want to leave this town?"
"Well, Rico, despite having such comfy accommodations here, the girls are flaky, and I don't get along with the mentality here. And add the night I had last night," I tell the one friend I have here.
His mouth is agape, and his eyes narrow. I can only assume he's trying to process another defiant retort, but it's hard to take someone serious when their appearance and manner remind you of Carlton from Fresh Prince.
After a brief pause while trying to conceive a thought to share, he finally says, "You're just running away. Running away." His forehead creases while his brow draws inward to further dramatize the scowl he's giving me to accent his argument.
"No, my misinformed friend. Running away is exactly why I'm here. Charging head first away from my problems and into this situation. I'm going back.
This is the Land of the Lotus Eaters. I don't belong here."
Rico remains in unspoken judgement, only showing the confusion of the term with the an
Holy Land Ch 1 Pt 3The phone begins to beep. It's the frantic wailing of a dying electronic. I pull it out and check the time. It's already an hour past our meeting time, and the symbol of a flashing battery isn't helping to stay calm.
Silently I mouth the words as I text, Where the fuck are you!? My phone is dying!
I lay back down on the marble ledge clutching the sword to my chest. There's a book store next door in case this turns out to be a bust, but I don't know why I'm making this such an ordeal. It'll just be nice to see a face that I grew up with, I suppose.
Thirty minutes pass as I reminisce about the last few blurry memories of my fights until I feel his presence. I jump up and look down hill. He doesn't look much different than when we were in school: Thin dark hair, a young, boyish face, and a short, firm build like redwood's stump. Besides the Caucasian features of his face, he looks like any other well toned, Asian martial artist.
"Why haven't you called or texted me?"