Page 273 - What They Did to the Kid

What They Did to the Kid 261

They laughed, but they didn’t laugh at me, so I smiled. Maybe
they thought Misery was a joke.
Eleven years...and I choke.
“The pay phone’s over there,” the waitress said. “Here’s a dime.
Call yourself a cab.”
“Hey, kid,” one of the truckers said. “Have a cup of coffee. On
me. Merry Christmas.”
I tried to feel their cheer.
I had told none of my friends of eleven years goodbye.
None of them, I knew, would ever contact me.

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