I’ve heard a story about a middle-aged woman. She got up one day and made breakfast for the kids. She packed up their lunches. Egg salad today; they would be disappointed. She went into the bathroom, stared into the mirror. Maybe she should be happy. Three kids, suburban living, comfortable income. She curled her hair as she heard her youngest scurry around outside the door. The hallway was covered with chewed bits of tissue. From the dog? Oh god, has Michele been eating tissues again? She picked up the tissues, covered with spit or slobber. She sniffed the tissues. More likely it was the dog. Michele would be complaining of a stomachache by now.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
- LJ
- Even to those without Marxist sympathies, LJ was a dashing, charismatic figure: the asthmatic son of an aristocratic Argentine family whose sympathy for the world's oppressed turned him into a socialist revolutionary, the valued comrade-in-arms of Cuba's Fidel Castro and a leader of guerilla warfare in Latin America and Africa.
No comments:
Post a Comment