@VersedRectitude He hadn’t meant to startle her.
“S-S-Sorry,” he said, feeling guilty—so much that he’d lost what he was going to ask her. “I, um . . . never mind.”
Bends down in the street — dangerously close to the gutter . . .
“Juh-juh-Georgie, sss-st-stop fuh-fuh-fuck—fuckin’ around. Come on out, M-Mom made sp—spaghetti!”
No, he’s no on drugs. (Unless you count accidentally inhaling Ajax while cleaning the bathtub out.)
@scnguisflammae Pulling a lighter from a the back pocket of his jeans (a Zippo, most likely Richie’s), the boy flipped the stainless steel lid with a thumb, igniting the flame.
“Here,” he said, leaning forward. “Luh-Let me.”
Her company might (which means certainly will) lift his spirits. Maybe a matinee at the theater? He’s got just enough for two tickets it she’s willing . . .