“Woman Hold Her Head and Cry”
Anna, her face wet with tears, wiped her eyes.
“Think he’s hit rock bottom with this DUI?”
“I don’t know. He’s been treating these wake-up calls the way people treat their alarm clocks. They hit snooze and keep on sleeping.”
At the end of the hallway, a man she barely recognized as her son was escorted to the holding area.
***
On Friday, I’ll be posting “A Fable of Freedom: I Shot the Sheriff.”
4 comments:
I like that. It's like looking at a snapshot that tells a longer tale.
Stephen, the whole thing started with Pan in 60, then Mad Bull and now I'm working on two more. They are harder than they look and they are very seductive. I plan to post two more. One on Monday and another on Wednesday, and then, no mas!
And here I was, in my Ayn Randian egoism, thinking this was about me.
Isn't abuela's name Ana?
Love,
Anna (the true one, yah)
And here I was, in my Ayn Randian egoism, thinking this was about me.
Isn't abuela's name Ana?
Love,
Anna (the true one, yah)
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