Fiction | April 24, 2018
Coach Schwartz
Andrew De Silva
He’d put on a little weight, yes, but this was always going to be a sugar-cereal household. Any single uncle guardian who didn’t stock the cabinets with unhealthy shit was a Puritan and didn’t understand his circumstances. Ryan scooped the milk from the bottom of his bowl, an odd sodden fragment of Frosted Flake floating across the spoon. Thump stayed evergreen skinny anyway. Like sometimes he worried that people would call the authorities on him.
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