My mother sat down, clasped her hands under her chin casting her penetrating eyes on me and asked, “Whose is this?”
Suddenly, my face and ears had a temperature of their own. Hot. Fear and guilt gripped me tighter than bark on a tree. “Rob’s,” I said.
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Man on the Run
He boarded a ship bound for another city several hundred miles away. He was a man on the run. I’ll go back when the disaster is over and see their destruction, he thought.
The Blame Game
Milk shot out of my brother’s nose, my dad sat stunned, my younger brother and sister fled the kitchen, and I broke out in a sweat. My mother only raised her eyebrows.