A fleeting whisper of stagnant hope, a momentary lapse of the path you’ve walked. A hand, crying-silver, reaching for something real, a consort. You tried.

Ugly, he said. You knew, you always did, the tar-like cruelty of the rougher kids made sure you couldn’t forget, that you’ll never be more than disgusting to them.

Still you reached, grasped, needed his hand. The word flattened you, as if you’d kissed a train with somewhere more important to be. Ugly, he repeated, and your world came crashing down. The whispering lingers, how could she let herself hope?

4 thoughts on “Igor

    1. That’s sort of what I was going for. It’s recollecting an instance in my early high-school days. Words can cut deep, if you wield them with poor intentions. Some people can be very cruel to others for no real reason.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I never understood why people face each other with such unforgiving force, unfortunately very often so. As a child, unfair and cruel, crude behaviour used to hit me very hard and unforseen as well. It seems that especially children have to cope with exclutionary and insulting behaviour on a daily basis, some more than other as one can well observe. Luckily, I belong to the very fortunate individuals being able to count friends, who are good at repartee, on my side right from the very beginning, as I were a sensible child and rather vulnerable. One of them, well, she’s a judge by now.

    Liked by 2 people

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