davidstevenson
Today in the lab, that one blonde who's considering a major in environmental biology asked for my help and, like a schoolboy, I obliged. There's a sparkle in her eye that keeps me from recognizing the fact that either of us is human.
I rubbed the two coins between my thumb and my forefinger and looked in her eyes. The tattered clothes and tousled hair; she needed this more than I did. In this case and on this glorious day, compassion wasn't all that expensive to give.
Third time's the charm.
The children across the street look back at me and my cheap Washburn dreadnought. I might as well have been holding a crucifix to the devil. the life I live is to mortify others from the cozy repose of this bench.
writing since 2011 · 5 entries · 3 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means David showed up.
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