He didn’t care. He didn’t care and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I watched my son as he sat on the couch and stared blankly into the distance, his little sister hugged up next to him as he pretended to comfort her. He pretended to care.
Ever since my mother’s sickness progressed to the point where she struggled to talk, he had barely spoken to her at all. Barely acknowledged her. It’s like h...
The abbreviated words stood out to me like a middle finger in a church parking lot. An insult. A moral wrong.
I had been working at Gerseppi’s Pasta and Pizzeria for three years now, and I had known, all that time, that this day would come. Though I had prayed daily, agonizing with the Eternal Father to spare me this dilemma, the day had still arrived. Some poor, sadistic, freak with def...
“So can you pick up radio signals with that thing?” The question was partially innocent, but mostly purposely cruel, meant to embarrass and, subconsciously, meant to intimidate. I remember looking at Timmy and laughing nervously. He had been the bane of my existence since kindergarten, and his teasing had never wavered. Sixth grade was just a continuation of the same.
“Winifred, are you suggesting that you’re not going to smoke one of these fine Bavarian cigars?” Thomas’s mustache twitched back and forth like a small, live mouse on his upper lip as he scrunched up his face in disapproval.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Thomas,” Winifred replied as she placed her tube of fine, french lipstick back in her clasp and popped her lips in a distinctly obnoxiou...
