They were left clinging to old dreams. It had been about the thirteenth bombing that had occurred on the Waylon’s street. The Waylons were down to t...o members now. A mother, Delilah Waylon and her son, John Waylon. John was becoming an ill fit for the elegant, grandmothery chairs, the flower print wallpapers and altogether too big for the cramped apartment. When the bomb struck, a massive shockwave caused dishes to jump from shelves and shatter, the kitchen table to smash into John’s. Once she got warm I carried her into my bedroom. I took off her jacket. She had a black college sweat shirt the was wet. I pulled that over her head. She was wearing a black sports bra that kept her nice 36D boobs in place. I peeled off her black skin tight Lycra snow pants and through them on the back of my big wooden chair.I pulled over the flannel sheets and fox fur quilt over her body. I lit the lamps over my bed. I finally got to see her beautiful face. She had dark hair and beautiful red. More

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