The tears built up, coming from that spot of uncertainty one feels when they can't summon a proper reaction to a situation.
"Fuck!" she yelled.
Someone from the shady spot on the grassy knoll yelled, "Are you allergic to bee stings?"
"I dun know. Dis isth my fthrist wun," she struggled to yell back.
I just sat there, itching my arms from all those microscopic biters hiding in the grass. I wanted to help; I wanted to seem human, but instead I muttered, "Oh, shit," under my breathe. I felt sympathy for the girl but more so this extreme inability to move, to take my eyes off her teary eyes and the drama in her voice. I managed to take a sip from my Coke, which was followed by a painful sting. I bit down on my molars hard and then I swallowed a bee.
1 comment:
This groundbreaking short story reminds me of Diane Arbus.
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