#66 A Broken Angel

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.


Anonymous said...

This woman has amazing talent . She has incredible talent with her pen . We will see more of her writing in the future .

French Furniture said...

Thanks for such a pleasant post. This post loaded with lots of useful information. Keep it up. If you are looking for the best information and suggestions related to (Colour of Chair) then visit La Maison Chic