Status: something to help the writer's block
The Irony is That This Cell Phone Has Gone Through Dante's Inferno and Back and Still Looks Better Than You
In Which He Cries and She Holds Him
They ran to her house and slammed the door. The bells on the handle jingled. Only Natalia’s father was home, half-asleep on the recliner in the living room while he “watched” ESPN.
The combination of a door slamming and James’ ragged, hiccupping sobs had him upright and bolting to the door.
Natalia didn’t know what to do. Everything was blurred and confused and then her dad pulled the sleeve of James’ shirt up and she saw the bruises and it all came together with a devastated click.
Her dad called the police. James cried into Natalia’s shirt, soaking her shirt in salty tears. Will came home.
Arthur Whitmore went away.
The combination of a door slamming and James’ ragged, hiccupping sobs had him upright and bolting to the door.
Natalia didn’t know what to do. Everything was blurred and confused and then her dad pulled the sleeve of James’ shirt up and she saw the bruises and it all came together with a devastated click.
Her dad called the police. James cried into Natalia’s shirt, soaking her shirt in salty tears. Will came home.
Arthur Whitmore went away.
♠ ♠ ♠
sad sad sadthings will look up after this. briefly.