Guilty, Sir- Contest
A beautifully perfect July sky, exploding in holiday brilliance, held its collective breath as I carefully secured my bottle rocket for lift off. At that precise moment, Ms. Filipski decided to violate my airspace and with pinpoint accuracy, I scored a direct hit from two backyards away. A certain sense of pride in this accomplishment was bound to complicated my guilt.
Father, just emerging from our back door onto my launch pad, bellowing "noooooooo"
in full stride, ran immediately to the site of impact. My relationship with Ms Filipski and the significance of the Fourth of July were, then and there, inexcusable altered forever. I have yet to see another " rocket's red glare" absent a wry smile.
03/16/2016
Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2016
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