I am walking out side in the crisp October weather, kicking around a rock down the sidewalk. Mom and Gary are
fighting again, it all started on who would make dinner. Mom argued that she had been on her feet all day was tired and
just wanted to go to bed. But Gary countered with the fact that he was a man and by that fact alone he shouldn’t cook.
They hadn’t been married long but I notice this happen pretty regularly. I walked out, unnoticed, when I heard the pots
being thrown around; I knew what was going to happen next and I didn’t want to see it. I guess that’s just what marriage
is like then. So now I am walking down the street forgotten and hungry. I turn down a little dirt road seeing my
destination, I starting running as fast I as I can. The log is still a ways away but I don’t stop until I reach it. When I do, I
slow and sit catching my breath and taking in the view. Trying to memorize the trees and the plants there, I lie down and
look to the sky; still panting from my run. Finally when I feel my heartbeat slow, I sit up and reach in the hole under the
log and pull out my backpack. I open the pocket and pull out ten dollars and my book. I carefully close the worn bag and
place it gently back under the log. Then with one last look and the sky I walk back up the dirt path and turn toward the
Seven eleven. Once I get myself something to eat I walk down to the park across street. I settle down in my usual swing,
open up my book, and begin to read.
When I finally lose the light I get up and head back down the dirt road, after I put my dictionary away and head back
to the house hoping the worst is over. As I get close to the house I can hear the yelling. I already know that the doors
are locked. As I climb in my bedroom window I try as best as I can to ignore the screams. Jamming the old chair under
my door; I lay down on my bed covering my ears to escape the sounds of my sobbing mother. Closing my eyes I let the
bliss of sleep take me away.
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