Sunday, April 22, 2012

time to go

It’s time to go now your grandfather whispered and his hand slid down the banister and you held him – well, you clenched your fist around the fabric of his shirt and you pulled on it, you let him guide you –

The shards sprayed over the linoleum. You cut yourself on a fragment with bits of an ancient Jack Daniels label stuck on, and your little foot bled all over the floor.

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