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I rushed to my wife, box in hand.
“You promised to come back.” Her too-thin form shook as she hugged her pregnant belly. “I’m here.” “You’re not.” Feeling helpless, I looked at the wrecked car. Blood on the steering wheel － so much of it, even the seats stained crimson. (c) Nisa Andrade
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It's been a long day. My room looks full but feels as empty as I am. I put down the phone beside the pill bottle and empty glass of vodka － my mouth bitter, throat on fire. Tonight, I rest. No snoozed alarms and blaring sirens will wake me tomorrow.
(c) Nisa Andrade |
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