08-22-2007, 08:27 PM
o.1 ~ INTRODUCTION
Dante prided himself on his wild imagination. It had landed him in plenty of trouble on more occasions than he cared to count, and it had kept him awake at night, afraid of the shadows.
It was his fickle and overactive mind that had led him to expect smiles, elation, when he met his estranged mother after sixteen years of wondering.
The disappointment he felt upon introducing himself was shattering.
She stank of whatever drug she was high on, and did not greet him with a smile or loving embrace; she gawped at the boy on her doorstep.
“What son?”
|