by Zee Mink-Fuller
The faces behind the scuffed glass were as varied as the selections at the local donut shop, none as sweet, I supposed. I was walking on legs of jello, wiping raw tear weary eyes and breathing only because my hurting heart refused to quit its constant rhythm.
There he sat, last one in a row of anger filled bodies. A blonde mop shading seventeen year old frightened pale blue eyes. He placed his hands on the window as he saw me approach. I briefly touched his hand feeling nothing but cold glass, no warmth, a sign of coming bitter memories.
He motioned for me to pick up the phone sitting near a nasty plastic chair which I was to sit in while making conversation as if my life had not just crumpled into a million pieces. How was I to remain positive, calm and reassuring to my baby boy when all I wanted to do was break that glass barrier and pull him to the safety of my arms?
Someone had made a terrible mistake. Replacing the grimy phone back into its port of pain, I realized yes, someone had made a mistake and that someone was my son. It would be a long time before I would hear his footsteps on my front porch again. We were stepping onto foreign soil and as I left the hall of glass I saw a broken angel sitting among thieves.
1 comment:
This woman has amazing talent . She has incredible talent with her pen . We will see more of her writing in the future .
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