|Houston Chronicle Crime
Author: Captain 9009 PM
Just a Sunday Paper DayRated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 214 - Published: 09-02-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2948997
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Crime usually equals jail.
I've spent the night in jail.
It's not so bad.
Cold and daunting.
But it's not bad.
I've bailed people out of jail too.
I remember when I bailed out
My brother in law:
Drove damn near 3 hours
To get his car and him.
The fucker was way out in the boonies
High and Drunk.
I sat in a small shack waiting.
There was an old guy watching TV
He knew a lot of interesting info.
He was ok.
But across from me—
He was the real interesting one.
No one came to bail him out.
He sat across from me
Signing his bail contract
I sat across from him
Reading the Sunday paper
I've always liked the Sunday paper.
My horoscope said "4 star day."
But the man smelled
Old Spice, sage, and sun.
Thining, gray, oil slicked hair-
He wore normal clothes.
A normal old guy.
There was a hint of pheromone in his scent
He's too old to carry
The odor of pheromones, I thought.
He signed the papers
While I read the paper.
No words were spoken
But each other's loneliness was understood.
I was reading the obituaries.