by Dave Erlewine
74 words
Bleeding from his lip, his eye darkening, my son cowers in front of the door.
"Did you throw a hook, at least a jab?"
He whispers something I'd need to bend down to hear.
"The other kid, he explaining anything to his dad or high-fiving him?"
My son's eyes, especially the darkening one, look glazed.
"Get in," I say, moving my leg, not watching him pass, afraid a hug might turn into a strangle.
Dave Erlewine is a fiction editor at Dogzplot. His stories appear (or soon will) in Tuesday Shorts, The Pedestal Magazine, Word Riot, and a number of other literary journals. His sad little website is www.whizbyfiction.blogspot.com.
3.31.2009
Glazed
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