Sam’s House
By Neila Mezynski


Pea green. The house had been painted a pea green. The replacement of his world with a post office. The walls, his walls, the color of official. Inside, small secretive bastard, lips twitching pulling at his sleeves waiting, waiting for her to go, to eat lunch. Takes all day, you know, to eat. Go now. Get the hell out of here. His arms folded tight against his chest, he sat super straight to control the urge to cry. God awful disappointment his life.

She wasn’t there to buffer him against the world. She was on the roof in the tomato plants.

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