Leroy Adkins is an underperformer. He barely graduated. He barely got a job, and he hardly socializes in his day-to-day life.
Zachary Turner has been sick for as long as he can remember, and as he grows older the crushing realization that he never...
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Leroy occasionally stopped by the house. He would look into the overgrown lawn, jumping over the picket fence if he saw a cat. Sometimes Zachary's face would become visible through the windows of the sunroom, and other times he would move his wheelchair and watch Leroy from the comfort of the porch. Leroy would mostly say hello, and Zachary would say hello back, smiling in a way that seemed unsure of himself before proceeding not to say another word for the rest of the time Leroy was there.
Things went on like this for the next month or so, and soon, Leroy accepted it was routine, and his venture into the bungalow was a one-time thing it seemed.
Too bad, because he had begun to hyper-fixate on the man, wondering things about him that would only be appropriate to ask in the context of a friendship. He wanted to better understand his illness—understand why it seemed like he was always alone even though he mentioned living with his sister. He also wanted to ask other things. He wanted to ask the man about his social life (even though he suspected there wasn't much of any), what he liked to do, eat, and experience. Leroy had been intrigued one of the days the man had come outside and read a book on the porch. He'd wanted to ask what he was reading—start a conversation maybe, but the man's mannerisms were stiff and nervous, and the younger man felt that maybe it wasn't a good time.
It was unfortunate because he'd hoped they'd become friends.
"What are you thinking about?"
Leroy blinked before moving his face to the person staring right at him. Clarissa—the administrative admin—was bent over his desk with a puzzled frown on her face. Leroy shook his head. "Nothing," he said, forcing himself to smile a little like he hadn't just zoned out at work.
"Okay then..." Clarissa said, standing up straight as she turned a paper on the desk. "I brought this over so you can take a look, it's the group insurance policy, let me know what you think."
Leroy's eyes moved to the paper. Ah, yes, he remembered the company was updating their insurance provider.
"Drop it off at my table on your way out. If I've clocked out, feel free to simply email me your thoughts," Clarissa said, giving him that half smile of hers that was serious, yet betraying her friendliness. She was a plump short woman with dirty blonde curls and thin lips that were always over-lined with red lipstick. She wore her hair in tight curls, and always had a pair of black heel pumps that compensated for her shy of 5'0 stature.
Leroy nodded. "I'll do that."
"Awesome, I'll leave you alone now," the lady said, turning on her heels and walking away from his small office which was more of a concerted storage room.
Leroy sighed, picking up the stack of stapled paper before flipping through it, "It's not like I have anything better to do," he mumbled to himself.
