third is the one with the treasure chest.

clockwise.

He couldn’t wait. Not even one more fourth of a second. His stationary position allowed him to carefully dissect the various “décor” that kept him company when his mom was gone (which was always). That fucking couch, he thought to himself as he scanned the room in attempts to avoid his inherent lack of getting what he wanted. Why did she insist on leaving that plastic shit on it? How the fuck are you supposed to build a fort without any walls (shits weak). And where was mom? Then there was the clock. That clock was such a hater. All it had to do was tick and tock. Pass three and move onto four. Say whatup to nine and move lifelessly towards ten. It didn’t know anything about waiting, about wanting something other than to simply move clockwise. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe the clock had the right idea. Perhaps it was Jaciya that was moving in the wrong direction. Counterclockwise. The door awoke suddenly from its slumber and flew open; welcoming the intolerable heat from what Jaciya had certainly determined was a counterclockwise world.

“Mom?”

“Who you think? You expecting company little man?” His mom asked as she moved quickly into the kitchen, her scent lingering in the silent living room.

“Nah, my bad. You get me anything, I mean did you stop anywhere on your way home?”

His mom entered the room and slowly made her way over to the couch. That fucking couch. She sat down (her sweaty thighs rubbing against the plastic) and carefully examined Jaciya with her signature look. That super human mom look. That I know what the fuck you been up to so don’t even try to play with me look. “Was this what you wanted boy?" She pulled her hands (her lived in, overworked and under-loved hands) from behind her back, revealing to Jaciya yet another declaration of her mom of the year title he had given her a couple months back. He ran over, his thrill navigating his shoeless feet to the small rectangular parcel his mom set on the floor.

It was Saturday. Jaciya got his Jordans.

Maybe the clock had the right idea.

But for now,

On this Saturday,

With this (fucking) plastic couch,

With his very own undisputed mom of the year,

And a new pairs of Jordans,

Moving counterclockwise felt just fine.