Litbreak Magazine

We used the trashcans to hop on the roof of the garage. There wasn’t much to see up there, and it didn’t make the neighborhood look any different. Old, narrow houses stood too close to each other like a huddled crowd of sick people. The windows made me think of sad eyes. There were never any dogs or children in the small cramped yards. But I no longer thought someone could get stuck here, that a street like this could keep you trapped in one place. Colleen even called us birds, and I pictured us as two tiny ones side by side, wings fluttering, when I saw a flock of black birds take off against the storm clouds.

Weeks after the wreck Dan sat on his couch watching television.  He’d gone on a bender and Mary wasn’t pleased.  Sometimes they drank together but Mary was a lightweight and prone to nasty hangovers.  Three days ago she had called in sick to work and thrown up all day.  Subsequently she had lost all desire to drink.  Dan’s back and neck were bothering him from the car accident, though he already suffered chronic back pain working construction over many years.

“I’m going to get out of this racket,” Dan said often.

“And do what instead?” Mary always responded.

It was as far as the discussion went.