October 28, 2015

Kevaughn Hunter




Him and His Father

At the window, I watch strangers walk by in heavy coats, bent against the wind in the afternoon gloom. The room is empty, its only light a small candle on the sill.

I think about my father. Of course, she hasn't gone to a better place, but what else did I expect from him? So simple just to have stayed quiet, to have not blurted out that I'm an atheist. What difference does it make? A better place. I could have given him that.

The candle is guttering. And what do I do now, Mother? What do I do now?


CP

Kevaughn Hunter spends his nights up in the stars, and his mornings hiding from the oncoming cold. His muse is his youngest sister and her love for life.

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