Clam Shells

He was running through the neighborhood. He was young. He felt he was young. He wasn't sure who he was. He could see he was skinny. He was wearing a long t-shirt, but no pants, no shoes. Just the shirt and his underpants. It was night. He was in a little corner tucked into some tall trees. The wind was blowing through the tops of the trees. He felt like it gave off an oddly menacing hiss. He found himself around the back of an older building. Set off from the street, the building had a wall surrounding it, with built-in glass windows. He peered through one of the windows, trying to get a closer look at the building. Just through the trees he could make out some lettering along the top of the building. The letters, once red, now were faded and worn down. They were in Swedish. He noticed his reflection in the window. He didn't recognize himself. His hair was very curly and black. He couldn't be older than 15. He worked his way around the wall to the front of the building. The building was decades old, fairly worn, the white brick facade was graying. Inside was a sort of courtyard. It looked abandoned.

Inside the building now, he was in a sort of huge lobby, maybe forty feet high. Dusty seventies modular furniture here and there. Offset on one side was the wide open entrance to a private residence. It was beautifully decorated in the classic 70s Danish style. More modular furniture, thick orange shag, numerous Asian rugs, large, leafy potted plants. And then he noticed that there were long-haired cats laying all over the place. Maybe ten in the large front room alone. He walked in and started wandering around. Towards the back of the entrance the room fed into more rooms.

The ceiling was at a standard height in this area. There were lots of rooms, all decorated in the same style. Lots of couches and inviting seating areas. As he worked his way through the place he came across a number of people in their 20s sleeping. Attractive people. And lots of dogs. Some of them looked up at him him as he meandered past. He was nervous. Eventually he found himself in the kitchen. There was dirty dishes and half eaten plates of food everywhere. He was looking through the cupboards.

He heard someone stirring in one of the other rooms. He panicked. At the entrance to the kitchen he noticed a large beanbag chair. Not knowing what to do, he quickly laid down on the chair and pretended to sleep. One of the people from the apartment entered the kitchen. Apparently they did not notice him. They stumbled around the kitchen, audibly moving dishes around, possibly beginning to make a pot of coffee.

Several dogs were now in the kitchen, a few stopping to smell his face. The person, a girl, was talking to them in Swedish. Then her voice stopped as she noticed him. She approached him carefully. He could sense her now, kneeling before him, peering into his face, undoubtedly trying to figure out who he was. She didn't seem too particularly alarmed.

After what seemed to take forever, she began leashing the dogs and eventually led them out of the room to take them out for a walk.

This was his chance to escape before eveyone else began to wake up.

He got up, worked his way deeper into the house. He passed several more well decorated rooms, each with at least one more sleeping young adult.

Eventually he found a room well in the back of the building with a door that led to the outside. There were couches lining the walls. To the left of the door was a couch with a young man covered in a blanket. He was fucking someone. His muffled moans just audible. Against the wall to the right of the door, another young man was rousing. He sat up and saw the stranger passing through.

"Hey!" said the guy against the wall. This caught the attention of the fucking man, whose eyes met the stranger. A look of confusion and alarm on the fucker's face, he sat up. The stranger bolted for the door.

The stranger was now outside. The building was well behind him. The sun was up. It was early morning. He was in a well-maintained suburban neighborhood. The air was crisp and cool. Dew coated the beautiful thick green grass. In the distance was a large school. He was in a grassy field just off the road. A large number of children were heading towards the school from all directions. He stood in the field and watched as they filed in around him, peering at him in his t-shirt and underwear.

He looked across the field to the school, and began to run towards the school along with all the others.

As he hopped and ran through the grass he noticed that there were patches of clam shells living within the grass here and there. He was careful not to step on any of them as he got closer and closer to the school.

"Sweden", he thought to himself.

He smiled.