T left for school this morning and when I came back down the stairs he had left all the lights on. The toaster was left out on the counter. It amazes me that he has no clue how things get put back into their proper space. I swear he thinks that it is magic.
When I got home from work he was flaked out on his bed. I walked into his bedroom and smiled down at him. He looks at me and says hello then asks me if I could figure out the word. That ‘A’ just did not work.
He shows me the board and the letters are L_RIC.
Lyric I said without hesitation.
He put the ‘Y’ in there and it worked. Under his breath he muttered ‘of course you got it right!’
I looked at him and smiled. That is my thing I said to him. What was he playing you might wonder. Wordle. I have to admit that I am impressed.
Please note this is a piece of fiction nothing that I am going through.
It’s the pain you notice the most.
Not the cold of the concrete beneath you. Or the discomfort of the stones and small detritus of every day life pressing into exposed flesh. Nor does the air, so cold exposed flesh turns blue in moments. No. None of those can compete.
Stone cold fist pummeling already bruised flesh.
I can feel it leaking from me.
Pooling beneath me, warming flesh for a flash.
Lips trembling I stare up at him.
I birthed him.
I raised him.
And tonight he took my life from me.
Grey cloaks my vision. I am aware of the dull bump bump of my heart. His face contorted leans over mine. Spitting. His final disrespect.
I numbly raise my hand to cup his face. He rears back with disgust from the red gore. The multiple injuries now fading.
‘I love you my boy. I forgive you.’
His howls tore through midnight air.
Pain is the first thing you notice.