not a policeman, not an animal, just a man-pig. He would sit next to me whenever he could, always just a hair too close. His arm would hit my arm, but I would pretend to not notice. He would light my cigarettes, one after the other, with a tricky flip of his Zippo lighter and I would look into his dark green -brown eyes and simply raise an eyebrow. He bothered me so much my hands shook, so I was grateful that he lit my cigarettes and that he never mentioned the quivering hand that held them. I wouldn’t talk to him first. He couldn’t talk to me first. We both had conversations with other people. I noticed he used a lot of big words I didn’t know. I was a lazy reader then. I never looked up words I didn’t know. I would intuit what I could and fake the rest. This story may be read in its entirety upon publication. (ETA Spring 2009) |
| Dichotomy |
| KatieWigingtonWrites.com |
A place for my thoughts to live
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