Stupid Cowards

          I stepped out of the grocery store as the crisp, autumn wind blew across my face. Carefully walking down the asphalt, which was in an utter state of disrepair, I searched the expansive, vacant parking lot for my Lincoln SUV. My heel bumped against a crumb of the road, which skittered a few feet in front of me. Suddenly, I stopped.  I swore I had heard something. I shrugged it off and walked to the car again, albeit a bit more fearfully than before.

For the Best

For the Best

Forever Missed

          I woke in a hospital chair that covered in plastic that clung to my thighs. Tugging down my denim shorts, I quickly glanced around the room. A digital clock read “4 AM” in dim, hard-to-read numbers. Shoving my feet in my sandals, I tiptoed over to the sterile, white bed in the middle of the room. In between the sheets lay my best friend, Adam. Machines read his pulse, blinking in near-perfect synchronization with his raspy breaths. My heart ached for every wheeze. It sounds like he’s dying inside, I thought somberly, a tear slipping down my cheek.