We All Go Down in a Whoosh with the Raindrops through the Clouds

And in a roar of triumph we find ourselves at last in the town among the people walking across Main Street and smiling and nodding at each other. We follow for a while (and there’s really nothing we can’t see) but then we focus through the eyes of Jason Rutherford as he walks to the library thinking of his pregnant girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend and her father and her father’s shotgun. Like something out of the fucking 50s, her father went and threatened him with that shotgun on the night of their first date. You ever get my baby girl in trouble, he said, and I’m not kidding I’ll teach you a lesson.

And boy, did he get her in trouble. Did he ever.

The library was a converted schoolhouse, its peaked white roof sporting a cupola with the town clock. From the top of the cupola’s spire we spin to see the whole town: the river to the west and the train station to the east, the farms to the north and the hills to the south. The town is confined by nature and man, but it is the comfortable sort of enclosure, like when we would huddle under a blanket on the couch when we were very little.

It’s comfortable for everyone, Jason thinks, everyone but him and Amy. Amy didn’t blame him for it. She said it was her fault too, and they both knew what they were doing or should have. But they both know her dad wouldn’t give a damn what she said, so she hasn’t said anything yet.

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Just a bit of experimentation with narration and titles. Maybe this will go somewhere more, but probably not. Which is no doubt for the best...Goddamn teen pregnancy.