By Jon Sindell
Please understand, Julie, it wasn’t the drugs.
It was smoking cornsilk with the older boys my mom punished me for seeing.
It was the gleam in Carlos’s eyes when he palmed me a dime bag when I was fifteen. He was so cool, and I’d known him forever, and he’d never spoken to me before.
It was Trey, and his magnetic confidence, and the thrill of carrying in my insurance briefcase, and in the trunk of my boring car.
It was wildness, freedom, camaraderie, love.
All of it worth so much less than your love.
Just—it wasn’t the drugs.
Brad
Love it — the things we do to spice/screw up our lives, and our “insurance briefcase” and our “boring car.” Excellent.
Thank you Tony. Look forward to your next story.
I had a comment for this one, but Tony Press beat me to it and said much better than I. I agree, Tony: The story is excellent.
Much appreciated, Bobby. By the way I’m on Facebook here (https://www.facebook.com/jon.sindell ) and here (https://www.facebook.com/JonSindellAuthor/?ref=hl ), and I tweet here (https://twitter.com/JonSindell ). Best wishes, Jon
Much appreciated, Bobby, thank you.
Does a beautiful job in the backstory department, with a novel-sized chunk of information casually hooked in there. AND creates empathy for a crappy character. All in 101 words!
Thanks very much, Vesna, much appreciated. And I believe the character, Brad, appreciates your empathy as well!
This reminds me of the first time i smoked pot, or what I thought was pot and it turned out to be oregano!
Wait a minute, you mean guitarists – especially hotshot pro guitariists – SMOKE POT???
Nice job as usual Jon!
Thanks very much Jeanne. Gee, I learned you and Tony Press are in the same writer’s group – which means you’re both in good company!