George hadn’t been kind to life, and it left him with a big red nose. It was bigger than his fist and had boils and hard, rocky moles. It drooped down and covered his top lip, and I wondered how he ate and breathed at the same time.
“Dad… Slow down!” Mike said, looking at George.
George’s head was slumped over and he was digging into his pre-cut patty with a fork.
“Jesus…” Mike added. “Didn’t we just feed you an hour ago?”
I turned towards George and noticed he couldn’t hear Mike. His brain only had enough power left to do one thing at a time, and it was fully focused on the dry meat.
“How about some cole-slaw, Dad?” Mike said, noticing George had remarkably already finished his hamburger.
But George was at the age where life simply happened. And when George’s nose slammed onto his plate, Mike knew it was time to wheel him back into his room so he could take a nap.
Alex Antiuk is from New York and his work has appeared in Expat Press, Random Sample Review, Fragment Voices and other small presses.
His work can be found here: alexanderantiuk.wordpress.com
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