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Hands up

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He shouted, cigarette resting on his lips , as his girl watched. Her blush rose to her cheeks. She knew well that boys like him would never grow up. They were the Peter Pans Of reality. They would never think themselves too old to prove their masculinity… point a generational gun at another man’s head. He was the type of boy that promised to kill , with the kiss of silver bullets to flesh. His kisses were frequent and arbitrary , but always worth it to him.

His girl watched, leaning on his stolen cadillac shuddering yet fascinated. He was a powerful beast- disloyal to everyone, candid, deluded, young, pretty , and ambitious..in his own way. He was the only person she doted over, though he rarely told anyone that that she was his.

But stillĀ  she stayed. The allure of his nonchalance and his fervent fury about life beguiled her. He was perfect danger. So she stayed leaning on the door of the caddy as he blew death into his victim’s throat.

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