[1.3] - (Olympic) - My Body Is a Cage
The rest of the ride passed uneventfully with Randall utterly adsorbed in his brother's notebook. Eventually, his reverie was broken by the driver's voice.
"Eh yo, we're here. That'll be 19.98."
Randall handed him $25, and got out. Before him rose a series of squat buildings, and a sign that said "U-Sto-It." How many times have I gone back and forth from here? 20, 30 times? How have I not thought of this? He hurried to his brother's... no, HIS locker, as more thunder rumbled overhead.
The garage style door opened with a series of squeaks and crashes, and he flicked the light on. On one side, there were numerous boxes fill with the kind of junk a young adult accumulates. Books, magazines, old video games, and various kitchen devices cost only 3 small payments of 19.25 if you call now. Against the opposite wall was a small collection of furniture, and a moderately sized safe.
Randall went to work as the sky opened outside. He rearranged the furniture into a small office in the center of the unit, with a camp chair, a few side tables, a coffee table, a rolling whiteboard, and bookshelf. He filled every available flat space with books and loose pages pulled from the safe, taping some to the front of the white board. Then he went through the boxes, finding one labeled "weird." He pulled it open ad took out an old camera, a cast of a non-human skull, and a think leather bound book.
Bringing them over to his makeshift desk, he sat down in his camp chair. Ok, let's try to think like Brian. Staring at the white board covered in pages, he pondered it, tapping his chin with the notebook he had brought.