He came at me with the strongest weapon in his artillery – my past. And to what extent are we responsible for past actions? I don’t mean deliberate, illegal crimes, or premeditated murder, but decisions resulting in job loss, divorce, or even car accidents.
I had all three. and he wore them on him, on his threadbare clothes, in his crutches and on the hatred spelled clearly across his angry face: ”I worked ten years for you without leave!” He shouted.
I watched the shadows on the pavement glide by with ease, and remembered her feminine form. How could I explain that her departure and divorce had hit me in the gut so hard I wasn’t able to concetrate? If anything the accident must have shown him that.
He stepped forward, crutches falling. Knife plunging straight in. Yes, that was the familiar feeling I had felt, gnawing away at me for months.
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