Page 133 - What They Did to the Kid
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What They Did to the Kid                                  121

               find me in reality, Lord. Help me define my vocation. I’m kneeling
               here, on this hard wood floor, asking. Even my problems aren’t real.
               Please don’t let me feel this. I don’t have a real bit in my body. Mike
               proved that tonight. Nothing will ever happen to me, unless I make
               it happen. Amen.
                  I knelt stock still.
                  In the hall, Doc banged into the bathroom, making asthmatic
               sounds. Then around the cracks in his bedroom door his light went
               out. Mike came in from the porch, dropped off his clothes, and
               crawled into the other bed. I heard him rustling the covers, settling
               down on the old creaky roll-away. Finally the room was silent around
               me as I knelt there, hiding myself, but only for a minute. One last
               burst of fireworks lit the room.
                  “For God’s sake, Ryan,” Mike said. “Get in bed.”











































                        ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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