turn on the bright lights (open)

[Gabriel Quinn]

The large bulbs were barely noticeable among the green of the pine trees. It was fall and Gabriel was not sure if his neighbors had put up the lights earlier, or were experiencing a Christmas apathy that was nearly impossible to find. His neighbors were not old, they were thirty somethings with children. It didn't bother him as much as it should've though and he continued with his homework.

After envying the beauties of the day Gabriel had grabbed his school books and made a spot on his front lawn to do his work. He looked behind him at his house. He always took some pride in his house. Although it was not the largest one he and his mother had kept it in a perfect order. A sprawling garden crawled from the right side of the porch down to the sidewalk. The lawn was never untrimmed like some of the neighbors and he swept the driveway often. He was not rich, but by no means were they poor. He figured poor was when you were stripped of your dignity enough to constantly buy freeze dried food when real ingrediants were cheaper.

Gabriel went back to his schoolwork. He had made plans for the night and to cancel would be miserable. Many people were out today, washing cars, taking dogs for needed walks. He'd glance up occasionally to recognize someone from Roanoke Prep, give a wave or a feeble conversation.

[Zoe Carlisle.]

It was a fifteen minute bike ride each way from the school of ballet in downtown Roanoke back the campus of Roanoke prep. The sun shining down through the leafy branches and speckling the pavement made for a pleasant ride back. Despite the fact that she was still wearing her black leotard beneath the knee-length lavender skirt, and would certainly recquire a shower as soon as she got home, Zoe was enjoying the weather immensely and had therefore decided to wind her way through the residential areas of Roanoke on her way back to school.

In addition to the lavender skirt, a brown-grey washed denim bomber jacket adorned the dancers midriff, the sleeves stopping three-quarters of the way down her arm. The jacket waved in the breeze as she rode the pink-and-white street bike down the street, black suede ballet flats peddling daintily. Her dark-brown hair was still up in the tight bun she wore to dance class, although several pieces had fallen down to frame the girls face, and the bobby-pins that held it in place had loosened considerably.

Unfortuneately, as the girl turned into Arlington Way, her picturesque bike ride was rudely interrupted by an unfortuneate tearing sound and the waistband of her skirt tugged defiantly against her waist. Braking immediately, the slim figure slid off the seat of her bike only to find that her movement was restricted. A quick twist backwards to examine her skirt/back wheel proved that the two were entangled in a rather perplexing manner. How had this happened? Struggling the untangle herself yet unable to move very far in either direction, Zoe stood in the middle of the street, too involved in her dilemma to notice whose house she had stopped outside of.