When we got home that day, the fun was forgotten when Daddy yelled at Mama for letting us go to that place with our cousins who had bad reputations all over town. He took off his belt to whip us but I slipped out the door and went and hid in the barnloft in the playhouse that my sister and I made. I sat peeking out the window towards the house. I could still hear my daddy yelling but he never came out.
There was an old, rusty tube of lipstick, discarded by Mama and saved by us, sitting on the windowsill. I took my little finger and stuck it into the tube and got out the last little bit of lipstick and smeared the bright red color on my mouth. I sat and waited until I thought my daddy had forgotten about me.
To me, anger is red, bright red and it tastes like rusted metal in your mouth and it smells like old lipstick. And it feels like a question in your mind and heart.
1 comment:
This is a good story and I love your descriptions,.. they really leap off the page. ~Holly
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