Character Exercise 5

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Dominik woke up to the sound of a police siren wailing past his apartment building. Reaching to turn off the alarm clock, his hand landed on a newspaper instead. He perched himself on his elbow, the grit of the cement stoop grinding into his skin. He looked around as he rubbed his eyes open and realized this wasn't his bed, and there was no alarm clock to be found. For the third time this month, he hadn't made it inside.
He picked himself up stiffly, his joints impliable. Scratching his arm, he wandered down the sidewalk, weaving briskly in between passerbys towards the corner store. His stick-like figure looked as if it would break at any moment. The weight he had lost over the past couple months wouldn't be gained back, but he didn't mind. His t-shirt was loose around his shoulders, and it looked like maybe if you were to poke him in the stomach, you wouldn't find flesh and bones but thin air. His pants were loose so that every few steps he had to pull them up to keep them from falling. From watching him, it would seem that if they had fallen he would have just left them there on the street and kept going.
He walked into the corner store, the bell on the door jingling harshly as the door slammed shut. Scratching his arm again, he examined the display of food on the shelf before him; Doritos, Pringles, Roberto's Beef Jerky, Mrs. Field's chocolate chip cookies, and chocolate chocolate muffins. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of bagels and egg and cheese sandwiches under a hot lamp, and for a fleeting second, he thought maybe he could do with something more healthy for a change. He opted out. He snatched a bag of beef jerky and picked up a cold can of Mountain Dew out of the cooler. At the register, he fumbled through his pockets and realized in despair that he had nothing but a dime, a quarter, and a crumpled piece of paper. He glanced behind him, feeling as if someone was watching him, and scratched his arm. The itch was getting worse.
Outside of the store, safe from prying eyes, he flattened out the piece of paper on the nearest brick wall and read the big bold letters, scribbled in black pen: "FOOD!" He must have been hungry. Since he had nothing else to do for the day, he headed down to the grocery store. He stopped at the bank first to take out money. He walked up to the drive-through ATM, followed by two cars. He glanced behind him and saw that they were watching him. Those big glowing white eyes bored into his back. He could feel them drilling holes into his brain, grinning with their big silvery teeth. He panicked. They had caught on to him! But what had he done? He didn't remember. He ran.
Crouching in the decorative bushes in front of the bank, he saw a small girl standing next to him. "What are you doing here?" he asked surprisedly. She didn't respond. Her face was purple, black eyes pleading with him. Her green and strangely stemmish legs were rooted to the ground. He realized she was just as small as his index finger... like Thumbalina in the story books. "You are much to small to be out here all alone little girl. Where are your parents?" Again, no response. This time, she raised her green leaflike hands into the air, begging him to save her. "All right... this isn't something I'd normally do, but if you insist. First I have to get some money." He picked the pansy, and putting her into his pocket snuck carefully back to the ATM. When he knew that the cars were gone, he took out his card, swiped it, and entered his PIN. Withdrawal... Savings... $50. The machine beeped at him madly, and the screen flashed INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. He watched blankedly, then realized what had happened. "Those bastards stole my money!" he screamed in anger. He hit the machine, so that it stopped beeping at him. It spit his card defiantly. He tried again, asking this time for only twenty dollars. This time it gave him his money more than willingly. He had beat it into submission. Crumpling the money in his fist, he shoved it into his pants pocket for later. He gingerly cradled the pansy-girl in his palm as he walked along. He headed downtown.
It wasn't long before he made it to the police station. The tall cement pillars framed the antique wooden doorway that served as a portal to another world entirely. That world was safe. He thought this over and over to himself as he looked from side to side and he placed her on the doorstep. In the short time he had known her, he had become quite attatched. A small tear escaped the vice of his eyelids as he took a step back, her dark eyes following his. He left the pansy there.
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