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Running up the stairs in his house, the tall and gangly teenager heard the fear-invoking shout of his mother.
"ZARIN! Get back here!"
He hung his head and grudgingly marched down the stairs and into the kitchen where his mother was standing. She was staring at a piece of paper in her hand and had a rather serious look on her tired face.
"I want you to run to the store for me. I need a phone card, bread and a bottle of Pebcak." she handed him thirty dollars and returned her attention to the paper.

Throwing on a jacket, Zarin left the house and headed down the road.
The snow covered trees were the only reason Zarin was walking in the street rather than off to the side as he normally did. As much as he loved the snow, the idea of getting buried in it was just not something he felt like experiencing at the moment.

Pulling the tan canvas jacket tighter and fixing the collar, Zarin rounded the corner at the end of the street. Pushing the blond hair out of his eyes, he could make out the dimly lit sign of "Jack's Convenience" flickering in the distance. The street was nearly deserted, save for a few wanderers all heading in different directions. It was a cold city - not a lot of communication took place between people unless money was involved.

Zarin walked through the icy parking lot of what one could barely call a mini mall and neared the Convenience store. Pulling on the handle, a small bell above the door chimed and Zarin stepped inside and approached the counter. The only thing on the customers side of the store was a bulletin board that hadn't been used in well over a year and a broken pinball machine.

"Zarin Denatrose! My favorite customer!" rang a voice from the back of the shop, "How have you been?"
"Come on, Jack, you say that about everyone that walks through that door." Zarin remarked, "I'm pretty good, how about yourself?"
The shopkeep approached the counter in his wheelchair and stood up. "Well, I can do this now. What can I get for you?"
"Well, for starters, you can take that wheelchair back to the hospital. Your leg surgery was a year ago, man, why do you even have that anymore? Um... I need bread, Pebcak and a phone card."
Jack went to the refrigerator units and pulled a bottle from it. "I just find it convenient. I always have somewhere to sit on the bus and people seem to be nice to be for no reason." he chuckled reaching for the bread.
Placing the items on the counter and taking a small card out from underneath it, Jack rung up the total.
"That's really messed up, buddy but I've gotta admire your devotion to the scam. You still collecting on that disability claim?"
"Nah, That dried up a couple months ago. $24.58." said Jack, bagging the items and taking the money from Zarin and returning the change.
"Too bad. That was a pretty sweet deal. Well, take it easy man. Don't want people catching on now..." Zarin picked up the groceries and turned towards the door. As he exited, he shouted over his shoulder, "And get that pinball machine fixed!"

As Zarin walked through the snow towards his street, his eyes remained focused on the ground. This was how Zarin usually walked, especially in windy weather. A gust blew towards him and his coat began flapping. As he fumbled around trying to zip up his jacket with a bag in his hand, he noticed something lying in the snow - a black wallet with a skull button and white stripes decorating its material. Zarin placed the plastic bag beside him and picked up the wallet, and began to open it when a voice shouted at him from ahead. "HEY! THAT'S MINE!"

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Alright, I realize it's a little short for the first chapter, but cut me a break! I'm tired, it's early and I'm not the greatest at describing scenes.

Anyhow, this is the beginning of a story I'm writing for no particular reason. There were a bunch of things that factored into my doing this, and I'll explain them in the next journal entry.

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