Father

“Are you sure about this,” Stevie asked. “Running away… I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And I don’t think you know him like I do,” Michael said. Michael grabbed a handful of his boxers from his drawer and shoved them in his large faded green duffel bag that lay crumpled on top of his bed. 

“But,” Stevie struggled to say, “where are you going to go?” Stevie wouldn’t dare stop Michael from leaving. Michael was thinner than Stevie, but Michael knew how to punch.

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Restroom

“Is everything okay, Zach” the receptionist asked.

“Yep,” I reply quickly. “Just don’t like hospitals.” 

It’s true.  Haven’t been a fan of them since I was a kid. My foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum surface that lined the entire hospital infrastructure. My fingers drummed in the same tune. It would only be moments before I wiggled my foot and lose the foundation of my courage and bail. The receptionist doesn’t have a clue who I’m here to see. She might not know. Neither would the person I’m here to see.

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Saturday Night Grace

“Where am I going, J,” Thomas asked his brother. He rolled through the empty intersection after the light turned green. It was Saturday evening and Thomas’s foot bounced in place with impatience.

“I don’t have the address,” Joe said slowly. Joe had reclined his chair all the way back and stared at the street lamps illuminating the road and walkways. Joe is dressed for a party, but his face is prepped for a funeral.

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Master Debator

“Ready for the presentation,” Douglas asked. 

“What presentation,” Mark asked he chewed his lunch. An unhealthy pause grew between the two as the cafeteria filled with sounds of chattering of high school students. 

“Mr. Reynolds’ oral assignment,” Douglas asked as he fished for his book bag. Mark coughed as he stifled a chuckle. Douglas rolled his eyes. “He’s been talking about it for months,” he said as he fished for his papers. His face lit up as he flipped through his folder. Mark tossed another fry in his mouth before brushing his hands together. 

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Diamond Cut

Okay. No pressure. Baseball. I’ve seen it a handful of times. I know what I’m doing. Kinda.

I mean I’ve been the last kid picked all school year and now Bobby Kani decided to give me a chance. I wasn’t picked first, second or third. I was somewhere in the middle.

This isn’t intramurals either. This is gym class. Baseball usually doesn’t have timer, but our class has less than ten minutes until Mr. Derrian, our gym teacher, calls time and we head off to lunch.
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