The Burning Of The Flag
I step into my apartment building and wish for the billionth time that I could be at home again. I've been living here for two months. I didn't even get Jennica. She had a damn good lawyer, that woman. She was at fault, not me. But yet, she got everything. She got the house, the car, the dog, the fish, and she got my Jennica. My beautiful little daughter. To think, I come home one day to find my wife in bed with another man, and I get nothing. I am stuck living alone in this drafty little apartment, riding the bus to work, and eating frozen meals by myself. I even had to buy a new microwave so that I could eat. The silence is killing me. I long to hear my pretty little girl's feet banging on the uncarpeted floor. To hear Yippy snapping, or even the steady hum and bubble of the fishtank. But instead I hear nothing. Nothing but the arguments of my unhappy neighbors through paper-thin walls. Slowly I begin to melt away. It's amazing who gets tried, for the burning of the flag.
Email: kaite_gen@hotmail.com
