Member-only story
Over His Shoulder at Me
1 min readJul 21, 2018
People hurled insults at him.
He had a scrawny frame
with gaunt slumped shoulders.
He also had an impediment
out of tune. He created a puddle
from his eyes down his chin.
I stood behind him, a little far
from him. He looked over his shoulder
at my and it was the first time I ever saw
him cry. His lips whimpered.
He looked at his bloody shirt
shamefully. I leaned against his back,
wrapped my arms around him
and kissed the back of his neck.
He still felt pity for himself.
He didn’t feel man enough.
When he died from the power
of a shotgun lodged into his mouth
in the backseat of his friend’s vehicle,
I screamed at the discovery
and I wonder still why no one helped
him at all.
