kandee11
I'm eternally grateful. For this freedom you've given me, the love that reminded me that I didn't have to please everyone, that life IS in fact, very brief. No matter where you go (because, it seems you've gone very far, far away) I'll be eternally grateful.
Probable. The situation was volatile but that word- "probable"- meant everything. It was "probable" that our daughter lose her life during the surgery. It wasn't the doctor's fault a drunk driver nearly took her life- but at the word "probable" my husband went on a rampage right there in the hospital waiting room. I didn't stop him.
And then there was that horrid sponge. Washing dishes was already a terro- but seeing the dirty old sponge my dad left in the sink to scrub his bowls and spoons made me gag.
The smell of kettle corn filled the whole street. The fair was full of that sweet scent, an aroma that would become a lasting childhood memory. A street vendor set up his booth in front of an old record store, and sold cheap toys with fading paint while a young country singer began to play her violin in front of the burger depot.
They say life flashbacks come to you when you are dying. All my life I secretly laughed at those idiots- how were they to know? But here I lay, bleeding on the street floor, the culprit being a shiny BMW strayed on the sidewalk- and I watched the unforgettable moments flash before my eyes, each more painful than the last.
The fences were perfectly white, all across the neighborhood. Each house looked the same, every household had its housewife, every family exactly three children- and she was tired of
None of them knew how something like this could happen. Once second she was yelling across the house at him, hurling things in his direction, and the next, she was out the door.