I’m almost to the wire again this week. Talk about procrastination!

Many thanks, as always, to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers.



It’s 173 steps from the corner to 16 Lang View. Paced 12 times equals a mile. The chick on the corner peers suspiciously through her window now, hands on hips. She’s probably called the cops. If she only knew they wouldn’t scare me a quarter as much as the old man in 16 Lang View.

Procrastination and pacing diminish my bravery till there’s nothing left. You do things when options disintegrate into dust, things you vowed you never would especially when it’s for your kid.

I depress the doorbell.  I’m turning around to leave when the door opens.

“Hi, Dad.”


4 thoughts on “Estranged

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