Collar

It was hot as hell that day.
He tugged uncomfortably at his collar. He felt stifled, choked. His mom had washed this shirt just yesterday, he knew, but it still felt dirty. Everything felt dirty.
He inhaled deeply. He wanted the familiar smells of the detergent lingering on his shirt, fried food from the McDonald’s he’d just passed, the sweet perfumes of the girls that had just walked by. But each breath brought to him the scent of bad wine, sweat, men’s cologne, fear.
It had been twelve days. He thought things would get better. Why was each day more torturous than the last?
Lamentations said that the Lord is good to those who wait.
Matthew said that ye shall receive the greater damnation.
He kept walking.
His eyes were fixed on the ground, but he noticed a group of boys ahead of him. They were teenagers, right around his age. He tried to ignore them, block out their idiotic laughter. It was sickening. It was beautiful. And he couldn’t have it anymore. Just twelve days ago, he was like them.
Keep walking.
Envy is deadly. Focus on what you have, not what you’ve lost. But really, what did he have? An unstable mind and a nervous twitch. Fifteen and a half blissful adolescent years, and twelve days, ever increasing, of hell.
He guessed God was just getting him ready for what was to come.
He arrived at the church.
He remembered several lifetimes, or twelve days ago. That place was home. No, better than home. It lived up to its name. It was a sanctuary. When he couldn’t be home, he went there. It was safe. He was loved.
Loved.
It was all different now. The stained glass windows weren’t beautiful anymore. They were just gaudy pictures to mock him. Remind him of the beauty he had and lost. He leaned down and picked up a rock, winding his arm back, getting ready to just let it go. There was nothing in this building worth saving. He might as well destroy it.
Shattered glass wouldn’t heal him.
He dropped the rock and pulled at his collar again. Oh, how he hated the collar.