Writer’s Choice

My father puts his hands on my shoulders. I haven’t seen him in ten years, but he looks good.

The city of Page sleeps as I slide my leg over my motorcycle. The sun crowns over the horizon and sets the desert aglow.

There they were. A family of two. In a house with strong bones and a living room ready to hold them.

I had no more an idea of what to expect as I would going on a blind-date in a black hole…”

His black dog led him to a noose at the end of a rope. I was fearful she was on a similar path.

In my mind I beg her silently, don’t ask him about memory loss. He remembers the words to the songs that make him happy.

The tubes going in your are toxic but trying to save your life. Such a high price to pay.