I gave him all the cash I had. One dollar. He was buying this 100mpg moped so he could toddle around, baseball hat backward, hairy legs exposed, black boots, leather vest, unlit cigarette. I said, “for-the-love-of-god drive on the right side of the road.” He said, “drive this,” and tore through the front yard snatching the balloon right off the peg, causing the children to cry and the ducks to scatter. “I only had one dollar to begin with turkey,” I yelled. He flipped me off, driving ninety-nine more miles. I lost him when I pulled over to fill my tank.
A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness
Kathy Fish, Amy Clark, Elizabeth Ellen, Claudia Smith