DeliaBlack's Blog

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NOVEMBER 28, 2008 11:22AM

The Brief Love Story of My Uncle's Friend Jimmy

Rate: 5 Flag

Breathless with a bloody hand, he pounds the midnight door, finally hearing a wheeeezing from within: “Who…is it?

With a smile that glides through solid oak:“It’s your old friend, Jimmy!”

“I don’t know any Jimmy.”

“I just need to use the phone. I won’t hurt you, old man.”

“Someone said that before…and they hurt me.”

Clenching. Seething expletives. “Let me in or I’ll—“

300 yards back is his wife's car, silent in the moonlit road. Tomorrow she’ll return newly tanned to find crushed glass scattered like cheap beads across the hood, winking between the pebbles of the lane. In the front seat she’ll imagine her husband, knees to chest, an upended fetus kicking with a mule’s force and the howl of a wolf. She’ll take him back just long enough to get the windshield and tires replaced. Trust doesn’t keep the rain from your hair, and you can’t ride on love.

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open call, love story

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