Froggy

The little boy sat at the kitchen table drawing pictures on construction paper with Crayons. He drew fire engines, semis, station wagons, people, and a dog. The colors of the objects ranged from red to green, bits of orange, and though he didn’t know it, chartreuse; he liked the way it looked on white paper.

He sat there for about an hour while his parents argued behind a closed bedroom door. This was common. They fought over anything; dinner that night, bills, her parents, and why they even had a kid. The mom would often say she wished she could take it all back. Wished it never happened.

They had come to a conclusion. They’d both stay in the marriage until the boy graduated high school. Figured it was best to break it off when he was out of the house. It was his idea, she didn’t object.

And, they’d continue living the way they did. He had his affairs. Sides that she often brought up in their fights. Saying everybody in town knew of his actions; said it was humiliating. He’d grab her in a drunken state and try to kiss her. The plump woman would punch his skinny gut as he held on tighter. Neither of em yelled out in pain; didn’t want the kid to hear.

These pictures the boy drew were taped to his walls. Different pictures on different colored construction sheets taped to a yellow wall as bright as sunshine. He’d look at em throughout the night while mom and dad fought behind the closed door. Staring at the pictures. He wanted to get in that big truck and just take off. The boy dreamed of that; driving with a dog by his side from coast to coast. Talking on a CB.His handle would be Froggy. We all have dreams.

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