june
lenox, ma
-
him
midnight rolled around
as i tended the same
old post.
jazz music in the
background as i wrote
something down.
i was bad with words,
but i was trying to
get into poetry.
stupid, but
i wanted to at least
try.
the phone rang and
i sighed, picking it up
and reading my call script.
"hey, it's me, sorry
for the disturbance,"
her voice came clear
over the receiver and i
stopped entirely.
"what's up?"
i asked.
"it's nothing...just some
kids complaining about
a fire alarm,"
she sighed, obviously
tired.
"is it still going off?"
i asked.
she paused.
"well no,"
she answered.
"okay,"
i said,
"go to bed. if it goes
off again call me and i'll
see what i can do."
i could sense her
become less tense in that
moment.
"goodnight,"
was all she said before
hanging up.
i placed the phone back
down and went back to my
writing.
her voice running
a marathon through
my head.
YOU ARE READING
how to heal
Short Storya short story / set of poetry about healing and letting time mend you that is based upon real events but not entirely true (:
