Sunday, February 15, 2015

Lemon Grass

I don't know what I'm returning to, but it smells nice. It smells like home. Baby powder. And smoke.

All right. I'm on my back. My hands are raised. I'm covered in blood. I'm going to miss church on Sunday. The porch light is flickering. Dogs are barking. A flashlight is shone in my face. I can only blink.

"Gorbert ma spa? Jaspen waspell? Ha! Garven! Jakekelin! Bie!"

"Why did you shoot me?"

"Helbur gaan ry vaneth. Meeteek! Meeteek!"

I am accepting my fate. I wish it wasn't like this, but it is. I just wanted to get the morning paper. Fuck, I'm dying.


"I can't understand what you're saying."

"Wes! Wes gorblack! Wes gorblack!"

Fine. Everything is fine. I'm leaving now. I don't think I'll be coming back.

"Basser! Hyter skiR!"

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