[Mitchell Burroughs Start]
Mitchell hating arriving early. He'd rather arrive late then early. That way he wouldn't be wasting any time standing around whilst waiting. Time was very valuable to Mitchell and what he was currently doing was wasting it. One might not think the young man had an appreciation of time given his hobbies but he enjoyed them and when he enjoyed something, it was time well spent in his eyes. Who cares what anyone else thinks. Narrow minded pricks.
Just as Mitchell considered how narrow minded his own thought had been, his message tone went off. God, he loved that music, and its source material. He took out his flip-phone and opened up the newly sent message.
'sry man cant make it 2day. sum othr tym.'
Mitchell winced at seeing the language used. He wasn't a fan of sms lingo as he actually put effort in what he wrote or typed. Only lazy shits used sms lingo.
Shut up. The use of the word Lingo doesn't count.
Then he noticed the time at the top of his display. It read five minutes past the time he had organized. He wasn't early at all. Todd was late.
Finally, he took in the content of the message. It had been from the out of school friend he was to meet today, Todd. The two used to be pretty good friends until Mitchell had his little episode and alienated most of his friends. Today was to be the first of Mitchell's attempts to mend the relationships he once had. To be told the day was off after it was supposed to begin
Mitchell snapped his flip-phone shut with a huff of irritation. If Todd was going to cancel then he could have at least done it before Mitchell came out here. Maybe he did it on purpose, the douchebag.
Returning his phone to his pocket, Mitchell straightened and sighed, suppressing the urge the get mad. He couldn't really blame Todd, or the others who had said no earlier. It was his fault, after all, that his relationships with his old friends had gone downhill. Turning down their invitations and giving terrible excuses for not seeing them would rub anyone the wrong way. As annoyed as he was, Mitchell knew he only had himself to blame.
Bah! He was here and he didn't have to let this spoil his day. He couldn't remember the last time when he went go karting, but he did remember that it was a lot of fun. Who says he couldn't go it alone? Mitchell never had been one to require a friend at his side at all times, at least not since his change. He could do this. Surely they'd be other people there he could race against. As long as it wasn't like that one time that he and his friends raced against a bunch of long-time and hard-core go karters. It took a while to get over that level of defeat.
He moved inside and headed for the counter. In the waiting area, it was quite empty. There were only a few people there, some people in their twenties and an older guy. The younger group didn't look like much competition, not that Mitchell had any sense of picking up on the skill of other go karters. The old guy, however, was different, with his aviator glasses and his posture confidant. When Mitchell looked at him, he thought 'I'm going to lose to this guy...'
Challenge accepted. Mitchell sat down in the waiting area and tried to look as smug as possible, folding his arms and stretching his legs out.
It was a struggle for Mitchell not to drop to his knees upon ridding himself of the go cart rider jumpsuit.
Exhaustion was threatening to overcome him, the feel of it greater with every step he took towards the exit of the place. His face ached from where the helmet's interior had squished against his cheeks and the crown of his head. In fact, most of his body ached; his shoulders, his back, his behind. It couldn't be clearer that he had spent way too much time here, stuck in the same position, sitting in the go cart. Even his memories of his time on the track were hazy, the man with the aviator glasses and Mitchell's performance against him completely forgotten.
As he near stumbled out of the building, Mitchell wondered just how long he had been in there. To be honest, it felt like nine, maybe ten months.
A quick check of the phone revealed that it had only been four hours. Strange...where had that ten month figure come from? What a silly figure to come up with...
Feeling like he'd been in this place for way too long, Mitchell left the go cart track behind, keen to begin the journey home.
[Mitchell Burroughs, Exit]