Getaway: Final Portfolio Getaway | Page 49

If Only

You Knew

The acid sweat of his face was running through his eyes. He was able to feel how it was burning his pupils but that didn’t stop him from working. It was a tough job, a job not common for them. Dylan was forced to work under the sun for more than eight hours straight. The sun reflected its rays on the enormous crop fields of Iowa, aching the workers. Dylan was exhausted, the only thing that motivated him was the idea of getting home.

“Martha, darling, I’m home.”

“Hey Dillie, how was work?

“You know, like always; low wages, long hours, rich bosses, and annoying co-workers.”

“Mmm, I know, sorry for asking, do you want anything?”

“Now that you ask, can you bring a cold glass of cola?”

“Sure.”

Dylan changed clothes into a white cotton tank top and some ripped jeans. He sat on the small kitchen table and turned on the only T.V. they had. Dylan was able to feel how his body got engraved on the gray couch he was sitting on. It was all worn out and stained by human use. While some people were entertained by the first flat screens on the market, Dylan was only able to afford an antenna television. He was enjoying his glass of cola, feeling how the cold bubbles rise through his throat all the way to his inner nose. A sensation of freshness ran through his veins. He was able to hear the sounds his neighborhood made. It wasn’t children voices playing, or the sound of nature’s breeze, it was the sound of poorness. Dylan lived in the low-income suburbs of Iowa. The dilapidated houses were broken-down, the roads were dark, and at the end of the area, a flickering lamp

was about to die.

Dylan turned on the television and started watching the only channel available in his neighborhood. It was one of those common T.V. shows, portraying the rich life of the upper-class American families and their struggles. As if they had struggles, thought Dylan, if only they knew what it felt to be down here. This episode was about rich kids in in the upper east side of Manhattan’s elite. It was a “typical” family. A rich dad married to a rich mom who had two rich kids. There was a teenage girl whining because she couldn’t decide which Ivy League university to attend. On the

other hand, his rebellious younger brother was frustrated because he

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