Ray sat on the beach near the reserve school from which he was suspended. His mother was drunk. Passed out on the floor at home and he had nowhere else to go.
He watched the ripples in the water from the stones he threw.
A raven’s cry. A smooth still lake. A ripple dies as it stretches outward.
I wonder where the last raindrop of a storm is.
Falling.
It must be lonely.
Ray’s mother would be sober by morning. He would be back at school in a week. Ray rolled his pant legs down, pulled his tube socks on and put his worn out Nikes on his feet.
He wondered if she would be awake.
It would be a long walk home.
TJS, 2003.
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