Why do people associate skulls and blood with death? Why not rainbows and foxes?
Jerry thought about what would become of Danny if anything every happened to him. He could always call Danny's mother but she would most likely tell him that she was busy. (Not like being a gold digger and a whore is anywhere near busy in my opinion) His head throbbed with each doubt that he built. He wore every thread of doubt like a scratchy sweater. Too ashamed to scratch in public so the irritation builds but when he gets home his nails dig into his pink flesh and peel away any memory of irritation. Leaving scars and gashes where the sweater had previously been.
So many thoughts. Which one to focus on was the problem. He settled on people. Saying his thoughts aloud helped him calm down the intrusive thoughts of what could happen to him.
"You know people are like surgeons," he said aloud "We cut at each other and don't seem to realize that little snippets of our gloves fall into the wound, contaminating it. When we think they will be fine we close up, forgetting the glove. Later we have to tell the family of the patient that they didn't make it due to a glove clipping that was lodged in their air way. Thus making it impossible to breathe and inevitably they died,"
Who was Jerry talking to you may ask. Nothing in particular, he was talking to the air, the doubt, the itchy sweater, and the floor. "That's a nice analysis of the situation," came a raspy voice.
Jerry looked up and saw a face he hoped he would never have to see again.
YOU ARE READING
Where the Moon Meets the Water
RomanceJoin Jerry on his quest to find himself and pull himself out of the suffocating pool of depression he had fallen into. (So basically a lot of smut and drama! Everyone loves smut and drama right /)(*^*)/) should I change the name of the story?
