Something I’d been running from for sixteen years had finally caught up to me. My last defence had left. A stopper uncorked and I was lost to it.

  Libby finds me a half hour later as she’s coming back from band practise. She says I was sitting on the steps outside our building, stoic and still and soaked through. She says she took me inside and drew a hot bath for me. She told me everything would be okay.

  She says I didn’t speak for the rest of the night, or for a while after that.

  I don’t remember a second of it.


~ by Joseph Blame on November 23, 2010.

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