Mario Carrillo

The Cost of Freedom

The frame cracked the air after Jeremiah whipped the restroom door shut; enough to resonate throughout the house. Yet it was still drowned out by the incessant whirlwind that was the howling of his parents. Dad was at fault this time - he caused a fender bender last night in the downpour causing Mom to be profane over the cost of repairs coming out of the Christmas budget. The fight went beyond naughty, not that they should be rewarded with coal. A spark from them would reduce the house to a smoldering pit. Jeremiah’s anxiety paralyzed him as he worried about unrelated things to escape the noise. Unknowingly gripping the handles of the sink in front of the mirror, his makeup melted from a joyful mime to a flustered sideshow clown from a combination of the steam rising and the sweat raining. The costume felt ruined, he stood calculating for longer than he should have. Even worse, the overflow snuck its way to his weathered black journal. Jeremiah desperately slapped it to the floor to prevent further soaking because inside was Jeremiah’s golden ticket.