nobody’s home.txt
A cornered animal fights with nothing left to lose. How small would a room need to be that we corner one another?
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She clung onto the outside of the car door for dear life, her right foot placed onto the trim, firmly. It couldn’t have been moving more than 10 miles an hour, but her grip wasn’t so strong as to save her from being left behind again.
Fuming and spiteful, he wore make-believe blinders. He looked straight ahead and drove like she wasn’t right there, sobbing and begging through his driver window, just a few inches from his face. She screamed at him not to leave. She shouted his name like she believed he couldn’t hear her. He kept driving like she wasn’t there.
By the time he made it to the end of the driveway, she wasn’t there. Determined, but just shy of strong enough, her hand slipped off of the car door, and her foot to follow. The rest of her fell backward. Slowly, then quickly, then all at once. She hit the ground, and rolled in the dirt. She lay there, heaving, and broken, and shouting his name.
In settled dust and stillness, a final ‘don’t leave us like this’ was slurred through quieted sob, drug-induced stupor, and resignation.
He kept driving like we weren’t there, until he wasn’t there.
Looking on from the front step of the corrugated metal box we called home, my small eyes didn’t register anything out of the ordinary. I turned and walked inside, and sat on the floor in the back room to play, alone, like I wasn’t there.