Tillman Park

I’m reblogging this, something I don’t usually do, because I think it needs wider exposure. Bravo, Nick–an excellent work of flash fiction.

touchstones

by Nicholas DiClementi

I was 9 years old when I first saw a dead body. It was late autumn, and the chilled wind blowing off the Appalachians scattered the leaves that had been covering the old man’s arms as I poked in the mud with a broken stick, digging for worms. I cannot remember how I felt then. The days that followed were freckled with police officers, news reports, interviews, and therapist visits.  The old man later identified as Richard Greene, a retired shopkeeper, had apparently died during his evening walk and the autumn breeze had covered him up. I mostly forgot about the experience not long after.

***

Living with your parents as an adult is not as bad as they make it out to be. Dad still cooks like a demon and mom’ll chat your ear off but she’s always good for some insight. The melancholy comes at…

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