T he old man dressed like a silent film star: black and white suit, shiny shoes, a cane, and even a top hat. The hat sat on the bench and the cane leaned against the back of it. His head of curly white hair moved like a Bobblehead doll.
G rowing up, I was often told by my parents that I have a guardian angel. The only proof needed was my harrowing birth.
Everything he’d loved he had to sacrifice until he had nothing but stones.
“This pain, that runs so deep, shows me the height of the love we once shared.”
“You ever watch bees? One goes out, finds nectar, and starts buzzing. Pretty soon the air is full of them. People ain’t any different.”
