Flashback; its two days ago and third period just ended. The halls have a mild bustle as people try to figure out where they need to be. Turning my lock, clockwise, counter clockwise, fuck, what is my last number again? 23? 15? God damn, it’s March; I should have this memorized by now. Suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder, "Hey..." I hear a voice behind me. Turning around I see her. Her? Who was she? She looked kind of familiar. Obviously recognising my confusing she said "I'm Heather O'Shea" Heather? Didn’t sound familiar... did I have any classes with her? "We share like, 5 classes this year" ...Huh.
She started talking. At the speed of light words buzzed in one of my ears and out the other. Focusing, tuning my brain to try and get the frequency at which she was speaking in, I could see her mouth moving, her plump lips making shapes I should easily have been able to recognise. She was stumbling over her word like a dyslexic person reciting the alphabet backwards and her whole face had the hue of a... uh, well... and embarrassed person. Suddenly the white noise stopped and she stood, staring at me. Her brown eyes looked into mine, desperately seeking answers.
“Huh?” She looked disappointed
“I said; would you want to go out with me this Sunday?”
“Oh... well.... Sunday?” Sunday was movie night. “I’m kind of busy on Sunday. I kinda do this thing...” I said rubbing the back of my head looking at my feet. Shifting my gaze upward I caught eyes with her. She looked helpless, frantically out of breath. Heartbroken. “Well, I guess you can come if you want. Do you like Brad Pitt?”

Edward Norton’s face fills the projection screen. He’s a good actor, I never said he wasn’t. Quite frankly I think he does the character of the narrator very well. In fact, I think the whole cast of Fight Club is amazing. But still, the movie itself is anti-climactic in a way. I reach for my cup beside me and feel the damp cold sides of the Styrofoam. What I could only assume was a mixture of condensation and perspiration wet my hand. Lifting the cup, to my surprise it was very light. I took the straw to my mouth and attempted to slurp whatever remnants of root beer was left, but like so many Sundays I am only greeted by the annoying sound of melted ice getting sucked into the straw. Being a regular to the Hobson, the sound was familiar, too many times have I been taken away from my film just because some idiot was convinced that there was some secret pocket of soda was left, and that the cup was just playing a sick trick on him and keeping the other half of his drink in a trap-door. Unlike those assholes I gave up early.

Getting out of my seat I made my way down the aisle, there was about 10 people inside the theatre. The other cool thing about being a regular here, especially on Sundays was that you got to see the crowd a certain title brought in. In the second row I could see a group of middle schoolers. The dim glow of the screen only made their outlandish look seem even more stupid. Their eyes glued to the screen through their thick rimmed glasses they probably didn’t even need. Munching on candy and sipping cans of pop snuck in within the contents of their hoodies. Last week the owners dusted off their cassette player and showed one of the old dragon-ball movies. It was cool to see the nostalgia driven nerds take off their ties for a night and bask in their youth.
Making my way out the auditorium I push open the doors and bask in the unfamiliar light of the lobby. The smell of popcorn and butter in the air. Cup In hand I trekked across the tacky multicolour carpet, littered with stray kernels towards the snack bar.

Flashback; “Pht! Brad Pitt!? I always knew you were a loser, but I never expected that!” Heather stood in the hallway laughing at me. All the innocence was gone from her face and she stood laughing. Suddenly from around the corner came about half a dozen other girls, all laughing. Trying to assess the situation I stepped back. All I could hear was laughter. My ears started to ring. “I can’t believe you put me up to that!” more laughter. Turning around I look at my lock. 23? 15? Fuck. Oh yea... 12. My lock opens like clockwork and I grab my backpack. Walking through the crowd I make my way to Math.

With a topped off root beer I walk back to the auditorium, opening the doors carefully not to spill my drink I make my way back up the aisle. A goofy smile on my face, I got my drink for free. The owner saw me at the snack bar and came up and told me “Boy, I see you here every week. By god I think you’re my only customer sometimes. Have this one on me.” Smiling I made my way to my usual seat in the back. My coat already on it proving that I had dibs on it. Taking a sip of my drink I sat down and looked at the screen, Brad Pitt again. I still didn’t know what all the fuss was about.

I think it tries too hard to be descriptive... all these details feel forced...

You can't sacrifice flow to tell me about how tacky and colorful the carpet is... I don't GIVE a fuck about that and it isn't relevent to the story and feels as tacky and tacked on as the carpet itself.