![]() No, you don’t need me, he said to himself as he swung his feet onto the braided rug. Peter then pictured his mother when she was younger, upright and mobile, running with him at York Beach in Maine-Dad finally gone and both of them free. After three years of this, he didn’t mind making her wait, could hear her shifting atop the plastic mattress, the tubes streaking the aluminum rails corralling her thinness. He folded his arms and sat in the momentary pleasure of her silence. Drink your ginger ale! I ran out, she said. Peter, she balled and then let loose with a fresh salvo, her hacks like doll parts run through a band saw. The coughs had a dry, staccato quality and were employed more as communication than anything else. Ma’s coughing hammered through the wall, forcing Peter to close the book. Best of luck next year!” Dickle just scribed “Bang that pussy this summer, bro!” Morgan always looked at Peter as if she was about to tell him he contracted something terminal. In the back of the yearbook, the four pages designated “Autographs” remained blank except for Mrs. Even his own Junior class portrait was missing-another day lost taking care of Ma. ![]() ![]() ![]() But in spite of his contempt, the more he searched the more Peter realized he was in none Those pep rally morons waving their green and white flags the Debate Club and its tragic wardrobe the jocks and bubbleheaded cheerleaders who glowed so white they thought it forgave their lies. He double-checked the faces and reviewed the groups and clubs what a joke. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
May 2023
Categories |