Angel barked as a big cat crossed the street, shaking Sal from his line of thought just as a blue, BMW M3 appeared from out of nowhere.
A loud bump, sounding like an icepick on metal, rang out as the car made impact with the cat.
The car stopped, and the driver, a man in a suit, got out and did the unexpected: instead of checking the cat, he inspected the car. Having concluded the vehicle was unharmed, he got back into the car and drove on.
Sal was speechless. He tied Angel to a nearby tree and walked over to the cat. It was black, with white paws and a white tail.
Sal crouched beside the cat and began to pet it softly. It was clearly in pain, its poor body, twitching.
Sal’s mind filled with rage—what the hell was wrong with the human race?
He sat for a few seconds, unaware as to how he might handle the situation, when a person stopped in front of him. Sal looked up. It was a tall man with dark eyes and black hair, gazing down at the scene. He tilted his head and looked at Sal.
Sal was trying to figure out if the man was amused by the situation, or if he believed what he was doing was helpful.
The man bent down and whispered to Sal, “Humans can be so cruel. Do they truly deserve to exist?” There was something in his eyes and his face which was so very familiar. Sal realized he had a strong resemblance to the man from his dream.
He picked the cat gently up and stroked its fur. Sal wondered if the man was about to sing it a lullaby. When the cat began to purr, the man smiled at Sal and walked away with it in his arms. Sal pinched himself to see if he was still dreaming.
The black-eyed man turned the corner, and a cat leaped down the street and into a garden—a black cat with white paws and a white tail.
He heard a voice inside his head say, “See ya, Sal.”
Sal shook his head. He must be having a heat stroke or something.
Angel barked again. Sal untied her, and they finished their walk, but he found it hard to reconcile his thoughts.
What just happened?
Why had the man looked familiar?
Had he just heard the man's voice inside his head?
The cat ran back down the street, looking a lot like the cat that had been hit by the car, but how could that be?
Sal was dripping with sweat by the time he and Angel had finally reached the house. Angel ran inside to cool off. Sal stood in the doorway, dumbstruck.
People were rattling about in the kitchen. Someone was laughing. There was the sound of Angel drinking from his bowl of water. “Sal," came a voice from the kitchen, "come and get your pancakes while they're hot.”
Sal made his feet move. He bent his neck slightly so he wouldn't bump his head on the doorframe, and went to the kitchen.
The room was an L-shaped, open-concept kitchen with an under-mount sink; white, recessed-panel cabinets; quartzite countertops; a white, subway-tile backsplash; paneled appliances; a light hardwood floor; and a center island. The breakfast bar provided expanded seating for quick meals or an oversized crowd. It was his mother's favorite place to be.
What a bunch of useless information. He sounded like a damn TV commercial. There were a lot of people who envied his retentive memory.
His family was seated around the big, wooden table. They all looked up as he entered. His chair was taller than everyone else's, as was his end of the table, needed to accommodate his long legs and slender body.
“Was it a nice walk, Sal? It sure is hot today.”
Sal just nodded for answer.
He sat next to Carl who was busy texting. Carl grunted. He was texting Louise. He was crazy about Louise, the beautiful Louise with her milky skin, red hair, and blue eyes.
The twins were talking about YouTube. Jacksepticeye, an energetic video-game commentator on YouTube was one of their idols—they wanted to be YouTubers themselves.
There was an increased desire for fame among younger individuals. Many of them planned to stop their formal educations in pursuit of fame. Who could blame them? The shitty educational system had overcrowded schools and a lack of funding. School broke down most people’s will to learn and did nothing to cultivate self-expression. Education was important; schooling was not.
YouTubing was fine as long as it didn’t turn them into one of the people who humiliated their significant others for fame or one of the stupid girls who only received attention because they were hot. Or—God forbid—Milo Yiannopoulos, the world’s greatest Internet troll.
Sal’s parents were talking about school almost being out and what to do about the twins. They were both doctors at the local hospital.
“Sal, are you all right?" his mom said. "You're not eating. Are you worried about the test?”
Sal looked at his mom, and Carl looked up from his phone. “Why would Poindexter be worried about a test?” Carl asked.
He didn’t say anything to defend himself. Carl was right: Sal was a straight-A student. The thing was he didn’t really try hard. He just knew. It was a fact that irritated the hell out of his brother.
Sal cleared his throat. “It is just the heat, Mom. I’ll drink some water.” He always made a concerted effort to portray the role of the good, perfect son. It was another trait Carl hated.
His mother smiled and got up to clear the table while his dad tried to get the twins ready to leave for school.
“Consider changing your t-shirt, Sal,” Carl commented as he walked by.
Sal sat quietly, watching life unfold around him. Everyone was busy doing something, and it felt so loud inside his head. His eyes found their way to the family portrait on the wall above the table.
Sal was the odd one out. He always had been. Sal was taller than everyone, and he had seductive eyes so black, it was hard to tell where the pupil ended and the iris began.