Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have another snippet from Dear Jon. It`s our picture prompt and the excerpt must reflect the image and be under 300 words. Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!
Cherry closed in on me. Every damned bit of wood in Theodore Bartlett`s office was cherry. Even the window frames and the legs of the chair my nephew sat in were cherry. I ran my finger around the damp collar of my shirt.
The kid was quiet, I`ll give him that. He just sat there in his knickers, matching grey jacket and bow tie, playing with a set of steel cars and trucks, the arm of the ostentatious leather chair his highway. Was I ever that young? When had I changed from being Jon Porter the son to Jon Porter the freak? I think I was born this way. Popular theories disagreed. It was hard to look at the boy running a steel school bus up and down his thigh and imagine him already having his sexual preferences locked down. He looked up at me. My throat got tight.
“. . . wife and I were more than happy to have him until you arrived.”
“What`s his name?” I asked and died a little inside. My own sister`s kid and I didn`t know his name. Attorney Bartlett seemed to think I was a bastard as well. I could tell. His fat lips compressed slightly.
“Andrew,” he informed me. The kid glanced up from his silent play at the sound of his name. His silence was as spooky as a foggy night in one of Bela Lugosi's movies.. “Andrew David Porter, born on the fifteenth of June, nineteen forty-one to one Elizabeth Jean Porter,” the lawyer said, shuffling some papers to draw my stare from Andrew back to him.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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