We wait for him on the corner of Vliet St. She sits on a stump while I kick an old plastic bottle.
“He’s late,” I say.
She rolls her eyes.
The plastic crunches with another kick. I start to take out a cigarette.
She squints at me. I know she doesn’t approve. I put the cigarette behind my ear, decide to twirl my pocket knife instead.
“Maybe we should go.” I point at the old brown boat.
She shakes her head. “He’s just running late.”
I snort. Obviously.
She turns away. “Be patient. The kids need those backpacks for school.”
Picture is copyright by Rachel Kenison.
(Thoughts of community service on September 11th: one can help children in need by donating a backpack and/or school supplies.)