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The steam rises from our cups, creating a translucent wall between us. I watch him sit there, slouched, speechless, shrinking into his seat, avoiding the inevitable question: “Why did you leave?”
For twenty years, he could’ve thought about what to say. Yet, unable to look at me, no explanation leaves his mouth. Just silence accompanied by shame.
“Figures,” I say and leave. As the door closes behind me, he still sits there, silent. Cowards stay quiet, and there’s no greater coward than the one who leaves his child.
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Edward had hit Libby for the last time. That morning as he leaned over his breakfast scrapple she approached from behind and with all her strength delivered a blow to the base of his brain stem. He went out like the Miami power company in a category 5.
She elucidated. “Here it’s a ‘sucker punch’. Did you know in Australia they call it a ‘coward punch’? Of course you didn’t. It’s named for the giver not the receiver. But just look at a globe, it’s upside down there, isn’t it?”
A tall, strong man walks down a narrow street. He walks as if he were dead, with small bumps to the left and right. He has a hunched posture and his closed, grim face is a little frightening. Its mouth, always closed, seems to be keeping a secret for centuries. The man walks like a dragging train.
He keeps walking, and suddendly the giant man screams out of his lungs,
- Please mom, don't hit me!
This is how cowardice is born, whenever a frightened child turns into a terrified giant
Edward had hit Libby for the last time. That morning as he leaned over his breakfast scrapple she approached from behind and with all her strength delivered a blow to the base of his brain stem. He went out like the Miami power company in a category 5.
She elucidated. “Here it’s a ‘sucker punch’. Did you know in Australia they call it a ‘coward punch’? Of course you didn’t. It’s named for the giver not the receiver. But just look at a globe, it’s upside down there, isn’t it?”
My 90mg of a Coward
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A tall, strong man walks down a narrow street. He walks as if he were dead, with small bumps to the left and right. He has a hunched posture and his closed, grim face is a little frightening. Its mouth, always closed, seems to be keeping a secret for centuries. The man walks like a dragging train.
He keeps walking, and suddendly the giant man screams out of his lungs,
- Please mom, don't hit me!
This is how cowardice is born, whenever a frightened child turns into a terrified giant