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YOUR GRANDPA WAS COOLER THAN YOU

“Mikey! Let’s go. We’re late!”

Mrs. James stood at the bottom of the stairs, peering up. She waited, not so patiently. This kid had no respect for anything but his stupid games.

“Mikey!”

The front door opened behind her. It was Mikey’s best friend, Cal.

“Hi Mrs. James.”

“Would you go upstairs and drag him down here? We’re going to be late.”

Before Cal could answer or take a step Mikey appeared, disheveled, like he hadn’t showered in days. He looked like he hadn’t slept in just as long.

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Return To Sender

 

Timothy James flipped on the light on the night stand. The clock read 2:37. He couldn’t sleep. Another night. Another mental marathon. When would this stop? He wasn’t sure if he even wanted it to stop. He rubbed his eyes, sat up in bed, and slipped on his slippers. Penny sighed and stretched out. Timothy James pet her belly, and leaned to kiss her nose.

“It’s okay, Girl. Go back to sleep.”

His desk was immaculate, cleaner than his head, and ready. He flipped open the case of the Remington, and loaded a sheet of paper. His fingers hovered above the keys, close but not touching. Not touching, but they felt his tips. He took a breath and let it go. He took another.

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