121. Luther
Luther
I put my truck into park, but I don’t turn off the engine.
This feels like a mistake.
Last time I saw Kendra, she cried.
She didn’t just cry. I made her cry.
I swallow.
Maybe I should go.
Make up some lie.
I…
The front door to Joe’s house opens, and the man himself steps out onto the front step.
He lifts his arms in a What the hell? gesture.
I hold up a finger, nod, and move my mouth like I’m talking on the phone.
He crosses his arms.
I nod some more. I feel like an idiot. And then I say, to absolutely no one, Okay, sounds good and turn off the engine.
Too late for second-guessing now.
Even though second-guessing is all I seem to do anymore.
If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.