Fortunately, my father was out of town until late evening, and his (clean) house was right across the street from mine. Dad owned both of them.
Gerald and I migrated over to my Dad's house and seated ourselves on the couch in front of the big TV. It was impossible not to notice that we were sitting rather close to each other on the couch. Our legs nearly touching...you could have cut the tension with a knife. The awkwardness stood between us as a living presence as well.
YOU ARE READING
End of an Angel
Non-FictionSometimes people come into our lives and we have no idea who or what they are or the impact they'll have on us until they're gone. Really, really gone.
