Short Stories
published by Retort Magazine, on May 12th, 2010TYRONE
Snow rumbles against the floorboards pushing me sideways. Flakes as big as doilies flutter into my headlights as the wipers do the best they can. They’re calling for a foot in the outlying areas and an outlying area is right where I’m headed, to my own dismay and Andree’s sputtering disbelief. Tyrone’s call came shortly before midnight. I rolled out of bed and summoned my strength.
“You’re out of your friggin’ mind,” was how Andree put it.
“Come on, it’s not that bad out,” I struggled into my pants. “The weather guys always overdo it.”
“Fine. I’m unplugging the phone.”
“You should be glad he called. You know how I get.”
How I get is pretty unbearable. Instead of the usual mood swings I bottom out completely. Without weed all the wheels stop turning and I mope around heaving sighs of despair. Any task seems beyond me. I can’t sleep and I have nothing to say. It’s not like I take it out on Andree, but hey, she’s there.
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