3.

Past. Still Wednesday, 16:28.

Glu

A lone journey while empty-handed's dull. One would not have someone to confide in, to make fun of, or simply, to walk with. That's why I don't travel without a few biscuits and a bag of crisps. Aside from Brett Johansson, they accompanied me through my walks from school to home and other places too. They served, dare I say, as a recompense with the lack of a live colleague, giving bits comfort and satisfaction; Even the crushing sounds may pass as therapeutic.

"This walk ought to be great," I muttered. Working out never piqued my preferences, and except from the stairs which were turning into torture tools for me to get to Math class in building four's third floor, walking was my exercise. "We have to get some work o'er here."

Popping a crisp into my mouth, I did some thinking as I paced beneath the shade of Mayson Field's elm trees which had vibrant green leaves, and on its decently bricked pavement.

My thoughts weren't nice. Aye, there were cheerful ones but it was as if I allowed myself to turn them into something ugly. Intrusive and harmful even.

Being on the stouter side never bothered me that much before, the words "overweight" and "obese" rarely crossing my mind. As naïve as I could be, I clung to my knowledge that kids were supposed to be healthy and I, for some reason, was healthier. Yet I knew that something was wrong with me.

With my weight.

I've been called out for, but my first humiliating experience with it was in fourth grade. It was a friend's birthday party and the theme was about fictional characters. So even though I was uncomfortable with the outfit, I went with Mr. Smee in Peter Pan since it was the only character that suited my form.

Food was everywhere. And as a puffed-up kid, I ate in monstrous amounts. Dish after dish I tried 'till I could no more, a factor contributing to my halt the glares of other guests. But it was fine, I guess. To say that I was full would be too kind; I was a balloon waiting to pop.

Then came the games. The running, laughing, and piñata hitting. Once the treats were scattered on the floor, you just bet that eager ten-year-old Gluttonous Willow in his sky blue striped T-shirt, crimson stocking cap, and unbuttoned chino shorts went searching for treasures.

What happened after was pretty vague now. Though my mind kept on making versions of the continuation that I persevered to forget.

But I do remember bending down, the immediate tugging of my shorts, jeering

(Fat butt! Fat butt! Fat butt!)

, and lots of crying.

I'm not bitter, really. Nor that insecure. Probably just sad that I could've been better shaped but wasn't. Still isn't.

But hey! I'm not bullied often. My social butterfly personality has somehow saved me from that, and there surely are kids who are facing worse fates than me.

Besides, I swore to try making this walk relaxing. And I guess it's time to make it one.

4.

Past. Still Wednesday, 16:31

Someone

Glu was getting his spirits up and that was good. However, it could also be reckless at times. Especially when one could easily lose track of his surroundings just to channel positivity.

Because if he'd only done so much as a glance back, he would've spotted the spawns of evil who were following him for quite some time, waiting to pounce.