Brooklyn

The midday thunderstorm was just beginning to roll off as he sat quietly on that rusty Brooklyn rooftop, whiskey in one hand and a beat up cell phone in the other. Apartment lights flickered around him, with melancholy ballads blaring from cracked windows. He had hoped that going up there and stargazing would help drown out the overbearing feelings of isolation; as expected, it didn’t. The minute she hung up that phone, he knew that his please take me back’s and his she was nothing’s did not mean a thing to her. Becoming a part of a three year affair was not something he wanted. It just happened. Forty years old, a part-time job at the local supermarket, and stacks of divorce papers that were seemingly as tall as his broken down apartment building. That’s all he had. His mother was ashamed, his father was dead, and his poker buddies asked the same question every Friday night: would you change your past, if you could? 

“Absolutely not.”

His answer never did change.

Reviews

[Hester Vane]

I like this piece, it short and simple but with alot behind the words. Well done!