She stood on the sidewalk, pressed against the barricade, and waited, her gloves in one hand and her car keys in the other. Both were shaking. She was frantic. He still hadn’t come out. All the other kids were coming out and all his friends were running but – where IS he? This is chaos. No one is telling me anything. Where IS he? He’s always late and I have told you so many times to keep up, everyone else is evacuating, everyone else is running, everyone is heading to the Fire House. Where ARE you?
The sky was so unremarkably wintertime. In the half sunniness and half sleepy morning, he threw his duffle bag across the seat of his mother’s car and fell into the driver’s seat. She wouldn’t care. It was a short drive. He was moving.
This is why she loved getting out of bed each morning. They were hers, in a half-circle, and they were beaming, wide awake and giggling, legs crossed awkwardly and hair in bows and the gentlemen with their buttons so gleaming even if they skipped one inadvertently. She fixed his and he fell in love with her.
Her father stood outside the school the entire night. The lights were on, they were always on, he watched the people walking in front of the windows, always someone walking or standing or talking. Someone pulled on his arm to take him to a different place but he shook it off with a violence. She was on the floor and why couldn’t he just go inside and pick her up? Someone needs to just go in there and pick her up. Please, I could do that, just please let me inside because I know she just wants me to come get her. I’m her daddy. She wants me to come get her.
It’s not just infamy, it’s immortality. He strode patient, resolute steps to the front door of the school.
She looked up at him when he strode into the kitchen, knowing that he had lost his wallet yet again. It was frustrating, because this happened every other day, but she offered a smile, the way a mother does every morning, every stumble. She started to tell him to look in his backpack and actually turned a little to go get it for him when he shot her in the face.
He wanted to put his lunch box away, but it was so busy, so really busy! She was making him crawl into the upper closet shelf and yelling at all his friends, and how was he going to be able to put his lunch away if he was up here? He was good at karate, and he wanted to go out into the hall and help. He could get him. He was strong.
There were two shots for each. That’s the only way to be sure.
We all hung out near the satellite trucks, trying to get into the scene. Some guy was talking about gun laws and mental health issues but I managed to get behind the anchor and smile – it was funny. We tried it with each. There were satellite trucks for blocks, it was a field day.
Where ARE you?
The sky was so unremarkably wintertime. In the half sunniness and half sleepy morning, he threw his duffle bag across the seat of his mother’s car and fell into the driver’s seat. She wouldn’t care. It was a short drive. He was moving.
This is why she loved getting out of bed each morning. They were hers, in a half-circle, and they were beaming, wide awake and giggling, legs crossed awkwardly and hair in bows and the gentlemen with their buttons so gleaming even if they skipped one inadvertently. She fixed his and he fell in love with her.
Her father stood outside the school the entire night. The lights were on, they were always on, he watched the people walking in front of the windows, always someone walking or standing or talking. Someone pulled on his arm to take him to a different place but he shook it off with a violence. She was on the floor and why couldn’t he just go inside and pick her up? Someone needs to just go in there and pick her up. Please, I could do that, just please let me inside because I know she just wants me to come get her. I’m her daddy. She wants me to come get her.
It’s not just infamy, it’s immortality. He strode patient, resolute steps to the front door of the school.
She looked up at him when he strode into the kitchen, knowing that he had lost his wallet yet again. It was frustrating, because this happened every other day, but she offered a smile, the way a mother does every morning, every stumble. She started to tell him to look in his backpack and actually turned a little to go get it for him when he shot her in the face.
He wanted to put his lunch box away, but it was so busy, so really busy! She was making him crawl into the upper closet shelf and yelling at all his friends, and how was he going to be able to put his lunch away if he was up here? He was good at karate, and he wanted to go out into the hall and help. He could get him. He was strong.
There were two shots for each. That’s the only way to be sure.
We all hung out near the satellite trucks, trying to get into the scene. Some guy was talking about gun laws and mental health issues but I managed to get behind the anchor and smile – it was funny. We tried it with each. There were satellite trucks for blocks, it was a field day.
Where ARE you?
