"Sometimes,"
he said
while gripping tight the fabric,
of his own pant leg,
"You run out
of tears
Long before you run out
of hurt."
~Tyler K. G.
***
~ATLAS~
The rush for breakfast came fast. Sandra stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. I still had to blink twice and remind myself that Jackie would not be the one cooking for us anymore. Sandra smiled at me. She was nice enough. Though I could tell she made dad uncomfortable. She had moved to the pack five years ago, and so knew none of the events that had transpired about my mother and her leaving. She had heard the stories though and because of that seemed to have a silent vendetta to make my father whole again. I wanted to remind her though that you could not fix a vase that had been shattered. The on
