Dirty Boy 2
When I arrived, holding my jeans up at my waist, Aunt Janet was dabbing at the mess on her skirt. She was busy and didn’t notice my presence So I just stood there, staring, insides swirling like a washing machine until my aunt looked up. Her eyes held my gaze and, while my aunt stared back at me, time seemed to lose all definition. Reality turned elastic, all of a sudden. Seconds or minutes. Days, weeks, or years. I have no idea how long we stayed that way. Both of us just looking across the...