20. July. 2007.
p a r t 1 o f 2
I've been thinking a lot about that day with Michelle. She hasn't been home since. She woke up before me and was just gone when I went to check on her. I feel bad. I probably shouldn't have thrown Kool-Milk on her. It gets sticky.
I'm sitting on that bench I was telling you about and I'm looking at all of nature and taking in all its smells and weird looks and different mannerisms and I admire some people's shirts and wish I could lick them and then this man just puts his hands around my eyes and now I can't see the little Labradoodle shitting on a shrub and so I start screaming. I throw my hands and arms around and try to get him off of me but he holds his grasp tight, laughing as I continue to have heart palpatations.
We're slammed against the tip of the hill and then he releases me. I gasp for air and look at my torturer. "Don't be such a pussy, Avrey." He tells me, scolding me. I can't believe I almost didn't recognize Connor.
YOU ARE READING
In the Days of Chapstick, Gum, and Soda
HumorI might write a book. I don't know. Life happens to get in the way of that sometimes. * * * * * Inspired by @Woowoowriting and her books: The Darlings of Suburbia and Seeking Connections. * * * * * Short Story #319 Hu...
