By Michael B. Brodin
“How old are you, George?” asked Inspector Mallory.
“Forty-two,” George said.
“You live here your whole entire life?”
“Yes.”
“Last week you told the detectives you were aiming at your own head.”
“Yes,” George said, pointing to his right temple. He was shaking and sweating.
“And the gun slipped.”
“I was drinking.”
“And the bullet just happened to hit your mother.”
“Uh-huh.”
The inspector grew quite serious and said, “I need you to come downtown.”
“That’s pretty much what happened,” interrupted George’s mother from her wheelchair. Her thickly-bandaged leg was elevated. “Please don’t take my boy away. He’s all I’ve got.”
Excellent. Loved it.
Thank you!
Excellent so full of many different emotions. You have a gift of using the power of the word Keep on writing
Thanks.
Brilliant – and the title clinched it!
Excellent – loved the story and emotions which were a part of it!
Glad you liked it!
Good twist at the end, liked it a lot 🙂
Happy you liked it.
Indeed the pain of giving birth is known only to the mother.
Exactly right!
Home. You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave.
Well said.
Great little read… kudos …
Thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Oh Michael, you are good! Thank you for sharing!
So clever how you lead the reader through and manage to develop the characters with so few words. Love this story!
Liked it. Felt I was in the room.