Getting ready to live somewhere else involved a rather lot of boxes.
It involved a lot of dragging and hauling and cleaning too, none of which Gabriel, known to friends as Zach, liked.
The idea was that all of his possessions were to be dragged out onto his floor and divided into three groups: the get-rid-ofs, the storages, and the bring-alongs. So far no three neat piles have materialized in the middle of his room. Instead there was what could be described as a wobbly, cardboard and plastic version of Manhattan—without the glitter and the lights.
Zach wandered around among his miniature Manhattan, dispiritedly straightening a few of the buildings, waving around the vacuum cleaner, talking on the cell phone and at the same time keeping an wary eye on his computer, which he’d left on doing a self-diagnostic scan.
“Uh-huh,” he answered to the phone loudly (due to the vacuum cleaner), crossing carefully into what should be the equivalent of Times Square and attempting a smile at his mother, who was just passing by his door. His mother shook her head in mock despair and went into the living room. “Yes, I think so.”
The computer started beeping. Zach stifled a groan, leaned the vacuum cleaner against what might be called the World Trades Center, stepped over the East Side, and went to start the scanning for his storage disk D. “Yeah, I’ve seen it,” his voice slipped back into its native accent as it always did when he was distracted. “I guess so. It was blood—”
His mother cleared her throat loudly from the living room. Zach sighed. “I mean, it was pretty awesome.” All of his accents have departed with that reminder from his mother. “No, can’t make it, sorry. Hm? Oh, this weekend. Yeah. Right. Later!” He looked around and then tossed the phone into the only empty spot that could be found in his room.
“Gabriel! Don’t throw your phone!”
“Yes mother!” He turned around just in time to see the phone slipped from its spot on top of his computer and hit the table with a resounding ‘thwack.’
“GAB--!”
“That wasn’t me!” He shouted back, then added under his breath. “Directly, anyway.”
Just then the vacuum cleaner had proved itself too much for the cardboards and the World Trades Center was sent toppling. The box second from the top bounced off of his foot and spilt its contents all over the floor.
Zach hated packing.
Yes Anna, let us know when you're back. =p
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