When I woke up in the morning I started the cycle. This cycle was eating breakfast then going to school and going to bed and repeating. The only differnece in this cycle was the occational time that my parents were fighting and throwing things at each other. Even this was beginning to be the norm. My small family lived in the rainy city of Tillamook Oregon. Our house was an old building at the end of a street in a dense wooded area. I still remembered the smell that permeated in the air that evening: a combination of gingery sweetness of wild flowers, hazelnut pie crust and ripe raspberries. The smell of a hot summer evening, when the sun had already hidden its rays for the night, but the Earth was breathing out the steam of the day fever. That July, two years ago, was particularly hot, humid and promising to be boring. Having finished his second year in Highschool and planning to spend the summer working in the local amusement park, I was not anticipating any glory. Moreover, most of my friends had moved out of town for the summer and traveled back to their homes while I was stuck in Oregon for the …show more content…
Bryce took off his faded green John Deere cap that was wet with perspiration, whisking off the sweat drops from his temples and tousled his short brown hair. His head was spinning–water gave little relief from the thirst and the least he wanted at the moment was that warm flapjack of a sandwich that seemed so delicious a half an hour ago. As Bryce sat on the ground and sipped on a second bottle of water, his plans for a picnic slowly changed into plans for a late afternoon nap. He suddenly felt worn out, as if the heat had completely drained him during this brief bike