He’s a good boy. He wears the footed pajamas his mother made, blue with a red collar, like Superman maybe. He plays the piano while his Grandma listens over the phone from Wyoming. He plays four square with the neighbor girl, he calls his mother “mother,” and he never lies.
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dodgingmirrors reblogged this from fiftywords and added:
There aren’t any...boys around anymore. And I
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