Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Black Box

The Black Box

I heard the old man’s footsteps as he came through the front door into the living room, then the dining room, and kitchen getting closer to where I lay in my bed. I played like I was asleep but he pull up a chair and lifted the covers and so started the black box, a place for all the ugly memories to go. Some place where I could hide them away and forget. For awhile.

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