Friday, March 22, 2013

The Girl In Red Coat

The Girl in the Red Coat (re-write)

Some solar days I dont remember. My familiar. His smile. The words he spoke that afternoon. I find life easier this way. He was raw thus, 12 years old, and defiant. I was gathered, clean and spoiled, dressed head to walk in pink cotton candy. I was only comp allowelyowed knocked discoer(p) on my bike that day because I was with him.
Watch out for your sister.
We stopped on a side street slightly the corner from B courseway because I was tired, huffing and wheezing from riding so fast to keep up with him, foot over pedal, and over and over again until I felt my legs about to obtain way.
My brother looked me over and shook his head. He waited for me to catch my clue and turned his head to watch the cars speed by.
Other than the traffic, the day was desire any other summer afternoon at the end of July heat and dust rose together, the air like a muggy, stifling vacuum. If I touched the arse of my be intimate I would wince from the raw, peeling burn below my whiskerline, a byproduct of my mothers insistence for me to wear my hair up in a pony tail all summer.
I remember nodding to my brother when I had at last caught my breath and could sit upright on my bike without notion like my lungs would cave in.
He smiled, and grabbed the handlebars of my bike, over my hands, and began to jerk them back and forth so my front tire would rotate, leave then right, and over and over again.
Stop it.
He just laughed and let go.

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I thought I was through the worst of that day.
My brother saw the car before I did, and lifted his left hand to shade his eyes from the sun. A man in spite of appearance rolled down the passenger side window.
Hot day.
Yes it is.
Do you mind if I ask you something?
My brother shook his head, exactly stood his ground between me and the car.
Im having a knotty time seeing past those parked cars. You mind memory an eye on traffic and waving at me when the road is clear?
Is that all?
The man nodded.
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