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When it rains
Heaven is blinking
Tears falling under gray skies
While blue eyes stare vacantly at the letter

Letter written with words she meant
One last memory of her face
once alive
now dead

Just because you give them your purse doesn't mean they won't shoot.

One last letter
One last I love you
One last I'm proud of everything you've done
One last goodbye

Mom.


Glasses
Messy black hair
He sits with his letter
at the bottom of the fire escape
staring at the empty streets
Rereading once spoken words

"Thank you for the picture you drew,
even if you shouldn't have done it in class.
I love it!
Your teacher said you draw the most wonderful things.
I told your teacher not to forget to make you pay attention.
You're too smart not to.  I'm so proud of you."

It isn't so hard to cry when nobody watches you
Not like in class
Messy hair nearly touching thick frames
he doesn't draw anymore
A cold chill squeezes his toes
Raindrops falling on an old
wrinkled
worn
smudged
letter.

He skips to the end
"I love you"

"Mom"

The worst part about wanting to scream
is wanting to
and not doing it

Your chest hurts
Your eyes water
You can't breathe
You can't think
You can't feel
You can't do anything
But dream
remember
picture
recall

Mom.

Words once spoken
Then written
Now gently smudging
Tears of heaven
Tears of a boy
Ink running away


    Cheerleading practice hadn't gone the full hour and a half, so she decided to just walk home.  It was only a mile or two, less if she took a few short cuts..  The rain wasn't too bad, a gentle drizzle that was just enough to make some puddles for her to jump in.  Even though she was wearing her tennis shoes, the puddles were just too much.  The alley, already dark without the help of the rain clouds roiling overhead, was full of great potholes and dips where large amounts of water came together just perfectly.

    Her laughter danced amongst the falling rain, twisting and turning, wriggling and burning against his ears.  She looked up as he looked down, edge of the fire escape hanging a good seven feet off the ground, rusted in place.  His shoes, like his jeans, were raggedy and torn, duck tape where laces used to be.  His glasses sat awkwardly upon his face, blue eyes staring down at her without blinking.  She stood in the puddle, staring back at him while she brushed long, wet strands of long, blond hair out of her eyes.  He was holding a wrinkled piece of paper in his hands.    His eyes made her uncomfortable so, smiling nervously, she continued on down the alley.

Mom.

So brave
She held his hand
Handing greedy hands and hungry eyes
one purse
one handkerchief
one debit card
one driver's license
one tootsie pop for after lunch
one pen
one dollar
and forty-two cents

He poured the purse out on to the ground
as the boy cried
"What are you kid,
A baby?
You must be at least twelve.
Why you crying?"

Mom.

She stared at the gun
at the creature holding it
and frowned
He laughed
and shot her

She cried out in pain
as the monster walked away
little boy holding his mother's hand
as she died

    The world snapped into focus, someone's scream washing down the alley.  He breathed, looking down at the letter.  Mom.



    She knew them.  They were in high school.
    "Hey little girl, hey, hey, hey...  don't be scared..."
    She screamed.  She knew.  By their eyes.  The way they were looking at her.  They were monsters.  One of them cursed as the other laughed.  They were so much bigger and stronger.  The three of them surrounded her as she kept screaming.
    "Shut her up DJ," one said through gritted teeth and braces, "someone could-"
    The last few steps, one splashing down violently into a puddle, caught her ear as she opened her mouth to scream again.  She turned to look.  Glasses and dark messy hair.  The boy.  He clutched his letter in a fist as he kicked Rico behind the knee.  She stared in silence.  The other two boys, both older and bigger, tried to pin him down.  Glasses.  He bit DJ's arm hard enough to break the skin and head butted the other boy, blood spurting out in a sickening, gushing fountain.

She stared.

    Struggling to his feet, Rico winced, his injured leg unsteady.  Knife in his hand.  Glasses.  He charged Rico, screaming.  They went down together in a heap, glasses flying to the ground to land in the puddle next to the letter he'd dropped.  He stood over Rico, knife in hand, blood on the blade and his arm.  Rico stared back up at him.  DJ grabbed the other boy's arm, the boy she didn't know, and helped him to his feet.
    Glasses lying broken on the ground.  Dark, messy hair.  He stared down at Rico, old laughter ringing in his ears.  A shot.  A cry of pain.  Rico stared at the knife  as it wavered over him.  She grabbed his hand, afraid of the eyes and how they stared at the older boy on the ground.  He dropped the knife.  The three boys ran down the alley.
    "My name's Rosie."
    "I can't see.  Can you find it for me?"
    "Your glasses?  They're broken."
    He just stared at the ground, eyes vainly searching for something he couldn't see.  She picked up his glasses, thick lenses cracked beyond repair, and the letter.  She handed him the glasses, which he dropped back on the ground, grabbing the letter from her.  He held it close to his face as she watched him search the soggy piece of paper.  He handed it back to her, his breath coming quickly.  The fear in his eyes making her stomach feel small and hollow.
    "R-read me the letter."
    She looked down at the wet paper, an old piece of looseleaf notebook paper.  His hands were shaking.

    "It just says 'Mom' at the bottom."