“why’d you do that?”
I turned around and saw my little sister, rubbing crusties out of the corners of her tired eyes. Like always she was holding her midnight blue tattered auto sales t-shirt that had once belonged to our father. I walked over and scooped her up into my arms.
“why’d you do that?” she asked again, pointing at the bouquet of crisp dead roses sitting in the top of the overflowing garbage bin.
“They’re no good anymore peach, all shriveled up and falling apart. I’ll pick some up on my way home from work, how’s that sound?”
“Good,” she replied, sticking her thumb back in her mouth.
I set her down on the ratty thrift store couch, covered her with a pink and white afghan and she dozed off. I leaned across the sink and pulled …show more content…
Two of them stumble in, draped all over each other, today's their first day back since their honeymoon and it’s clear that no matter where they are they’re still in paradise. The manager walks in, large coffee in hand, his black greasy hair slicked back. He has been the employee of the month for the past year and a half. I’m unsure if he spends his entire paycheck on his appearance but i’ve never seen him wear the same outfit twice. And the last attendant is a royal pain. She is bitter and cold-blooded. No one here likes her and she’s the farthest from a people person that someone can …show more content…
I stand at the entry way, starring in. I can see from here that his chest isn’t moving and by the amount of blood I see there’s no way he could have survived the exchange . I walk over and I see that there is a gouge across his neck and another on his chest, slicing through a familiar navy blue t-shirt which no longer was true to its color. Beside him is Noah’s pocket knife, which used to belong to our father. He carries that with him everywhere and by the looks of it, he used it to save their lives. I walk over to his lifeless corpse and I kick him, as hard as I can, I scream and turn around, throwing the lamp off the coffee table smashing it off the wall. I sit down on the couch and cry, but not because I have lost the only relative left with the connection to my father, but because we are finally
I turned around and saw my little sister, rubbing crusties out of the corners of her tired eyes. Like always she was holding her midnight blue tattered auto sales t-shirt that had once belonged to our father. I walked over and scooped her up into my arms.
“why’d you do that?” she asked again, pointing at the bouquet of crisp dead roses sitting in the top of the overflowing garbage bin.
“They’re no good anymore peach, all shriveled up and falling apart. I’ll pick some up on my way home from work, how’s that sound?”
“Good,” she replied, sticking her thumb back in her mouth.
I set her down on the ratty thrift store couch, covered her with a pink and white afghan and she dozed off. I leaned across the sink and pulled …show more content…
Two of them stumble in, draped all over each other, today's their first day back since their honeymoon and it’s clear that no matter where they are they’re still in paradise. The manager walks in, large coffee in hand, his black greasy hair slicked back. He has been the employee of the month for the past year and a half. I’m unsure if he spends his entire paycheck on his appearance but i’ve never seen him wear the same outfit twice. And the last attendant is a royal pain. She is bitter and cold-blooded. No one here likes her and she’s the farthest from a people person that someone can …show more content…
I stand at the entry way, starring in. I can see from here that his chest isn’t moving and by the amount of blood I see there’s no way he could have survived the exchange . I walk over and I see that there is a gouge across his neck and another on his chest, slicing through a familiar navy blue t-shirt which no longer was true to its color. Beside him is Noah’s pocket knife, which used to belong to our father. He carries that with him everywhere and by the looks of it, he used it to save their lives. I walk over to his lifeless corpse and I kick him, as hard as I can, I scream and turn around, throwing the lamp off the coffee table smashing it off the wall. I sit down on the couch and cry, but not because I have lost the only relative left with the connection to my father, but because we are finally