Kids. I wasn’t ready for them, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have problems with them. Two kids. Both just like me. And Two moms. One an asshole, the other dead. My fucking life.
Kid Numero Two came up on my radar again today. She ran away — again. She won’t talk to me as she sits next to me as I drive her back home. Her blue eyes pierce my soul with her glare.
8 is a hard age. At least she has a home — a place to rest her head that’s hers. Better than living my con man’s life.