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Weekly Contest #9
“Remember how red Mom’s roses used to be? Like crazy red, right?” Only clinking plates replied from the other room. Susan was packing up the kitchen. The flowers weren’t that great anymore. Weeds had started to choke out what was left of the garden. “Yeah, crazy red…Hey, sis. Need some help in there?” “I’m fine, Dylan. Go pack somewhere else.” How did we wind up strangers? Me. It’s always been me. Dylan, the screw-up, at your service. We were tight as kids. Freshman year there was this kid—Frankie, horrible guy, bullied me every day. I was s...
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