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Weekly Contest #315
Greg didn’t like seeing his precious Lita like that, kneeling, facing the wall, her shriveled hands upon her own head, while other hands, rough hands, searched her, handled her with careless exuberance. Why was she suffering this indignity? What had she done but try to raise him where his parents, both cut down by the scythe of heroin, had failed? Was this the crown she deserved in old age, the humiliating cap of her interwoven fingers? Shame flooded Greg as he watched his wise-faced, tender-hearted Lita being humiliated for his crimes. ...
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