Rusty: Short Story

Rusty pushed past the last branch and stood in my personal space. His heavy breath masked the tranquillity, and it slightly annoyed me. This was the first time he’d come to my secret place, and I couldn’t help but worry he might spoil its magic.

“Oh man, thanks again for the invite,” Rusty said.

“That’s okay, but that’s the third time you’ve said that. Can’t you just enjoy the quiet?”

“But I love caving. I haven’t done it in ages, man. It’s been ages since I’ve actually been out anywhere.”

“You’ve never gone caving, Rusty. You’re not even appropriately dressed.”

“Why, what’s wrong with my drip?” he said, gesturing at his outfit.

“Drip? Rusty, you’re wearing five hundred dollar designer sneakers and a Hawaiian shirt.”

“What are you talking about, man? I look dope.”