Fiction | August 05, 2019

“You’re late,” says Jesse on Tuesday, as I slide into a seat beside him.

“Traffic,” I say.

“Hmruphh,” says Jesse.

“And what did I miss?”

Jesse makes a shushing sound.

Lorraine is at the podium. She’s going on and on about it being March Madness and how that man of hers, Jerome, is bringing home beer to watch the basketball games. “Beer in my house!” she screeches. She’s a stone-cold wino and Valium addict, but beer is beer. It ain’t right, him puttin’ the temptation right in her own fridge! On and on she goes.

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