Name: Shane Zerbe
Course: English 101
Instructor: F. Jane Scott

Remembering An Event
The inside of my mouth tastes of salt. I can feel my cold, wet, clothes start to cling to my body. I'm soaked. I'm sweating. I can hear a radio playing in the background. As I rub away the dirt that formed in the corners of my eyes, I open them.
I find myself sitting in the car next to my mom. I must have fallen asleep. I scan the car with my eyes in a panic“ where are we going?”, I ask. I can't remember a thing about what happened prior to this, or even how I got here. “We're going to Lyndia's,” she calmly reassures me. I'm at ease. I know I am going to see my friend Dylan today.
Dylan is a little older than me, he is eight and I'm seven. He has long hair that is braided down to his lower back. He is more bold, more ambitious, and more outgoing than I am; Dylan is the opposite of me, but we are a great pair. We both have qualities that the other one lacks.
We pass shoes tied together hanging from the telephone lines above the corner of each block. I never understood why anyone would throw their shoes on the wires. The sidewalks are lifted by tree roots to around a 45 degree angle. We pass boarded and abandoned homes that still seem to have a presence of life in them. I know we are close though because the streets began to glimmer in the light.
We finally arrive at Dylan's brick town house. I can hear the neighbor's dogs barking that were behind a large wooden fence. I never saw the dogs before. I assume that they are big and mean just as they sound. My mom starts to unload a cooler from the car and sluggishly follows me, I help her with the door to the house. We walk through the living room, then through kitchen, and finally out through the back door where Lyndia is sitting on the porch.
Playing in the yard is Dylan. The yard is mostly dirt and rocks. it is unkept and looks similar to a desert. I run to the other side of the tiny yard where he is playing. My mother places the cooler down on the porch and grabs a can of beer out of in, as does Lyndia. Dylan and I then leave the yard to the ally where we can see the entire neighborhood enjoying themselves in this summer heat.
As we reach the other side of the ally a red sporty car takes a sharp turn down the ally and hits a girl on a bike. We are met up with screeches and screams. I hear a woman's voice yell from a widow of one of the houses “I'm calling the cops!” The stranger in the car stops right next to us, only