Thursday, February 14, 2013

wet pants

Roberto.
Walked out of the hallway. 
Dressed in black. 
Top to bottom. 
The logo of a dog's yellow pawprint.
Splashed. 
On the front. 
Of his long-sleeved work shirt. 
His shoes were shined.
His apron draped. 
Carefully.
Over his bent arm.
And his smile was bright.

Off to work? 
I questioned. 
His attire the obvious answer.
Yeah. 
But,I didn't give myself time to dry my pants. 
He laughed.
I stared at him.
Confused.
Well
He continued.
He ran a hand down the thigh of his left leg.
These pants are soaking wet
Seriously?
I snorted.
Yeah.
They are completely wet. 
He said.
As a matter-of-fact.
I smirked.
And furrowed my brows. 
I didn't know how to respond.
So I didn't.

Roberto.
My son.
The kid who is full of life.
With a go-with-the-flow kind of attitude.
Walked out the front door.
Love you
He yelled.
Love you, too
I called after him.

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