As I walked down humid and brightly lit Main Street, feeling alone; because I was, feeling bored; because I was, and feeling unaccomplished with so much time in high school and virtually nothing to show for it, I began to think of things that I was good at. It depressed me to find I could count the things on one hand, and none of them were impressive or, for that matter, useful.
I wanted something new, something I could be proud of. I longed for any slight sense of accomplishment, to be happy with something about myself. I would almost have done anything just for that sense of self-worth.
It was hot and humid. I felt like I was drenched in warm, thick fluid during the hottest day of the year with the sun burning down on me heating the fluid, almost scalding my skin, but the feeling didn’t bother me as much as it usually should have. The town was old, quiet, and quite scary. It seemed as if everyone had packed their ice-chests of beer and tents and drove their nice, air conditioned cars and pickups to the lake, but this didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Nothing was on my mind but me and my problems. In my mind I felt it was more important that I had more negative things to think about.
Thinking about my lack of direction, accomplishment, and self motivation, I passed by an old pawn shop. I had been there many times. It was a dirty and drab brick building in a long line of equally uninteresting buildings, with glass windows in the front with all sorts of useless nick-knacks and decorative pieces. One sign on the front of the store identified it as, not a storage building, like others usually thought, but as Digger’s Pawn Shop, providing an address, and a phone number that had long since been disconnected.
As I walked by, I thought, what the hell, this place will help me pass the time. I pushed the heavy glass door open with a heave and a sigh, knowing I’d just be bored in 5 minutes.
As I began to look around the pawn shop, inspecting broken...