An excerpt from Home Groupies, free this week at: https://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S
Behind the levee
While the rest of us sat around the table, Chanel slept in Sue’s lap on a couch in the back of the church basement. In the florescent light, Sue’s bony face was a sickly gray. She reminded me of the chalk we had used in elementary school. The writing end was always a bright white, but the rest was inevitably discolored from sweaty fingers clutching it as their owner stared at the blackboard, praying the answer would appear if he squeezed the chalk hard enough.
She wore a silk head scarf Victoria had given her. The scarf was a deep blue, and the veins at Sue’s temple seemed to disappear into an azure reservoir of Sue’s former vitality. No eyebrows.
Sue’s smile hung like a horseshoe suspended in midair, a happy talisman that didn’t seem to be nailed to anything in particular, ever hopeful that good luck was about to return. Her chin rested on Chanel’s coal black hair, which was pulled into two pigtails. Chanel’s face was the color of dark butterscotch candy. Her cheeks shone a little lighter, as if sunlight was resting inside them. She had Clay’s parka wrapped around her, and LeVaughn’s glasses were still clutched in her hand.
While people asked the speaker questions, Sue’s peaceful expression never changed, and Chanel never stirred.
Today I will find serenity,
and I will not let the noise of everyday life affect me.
Home Groupies © 2009 by Kenneth A. Montrose.