I miss them.
Charlie and Cheryl.
Mom and Momma.
I don't care if they favored
Winter over me.
I don't care.
I just want a hug.
Mom's hugs were always
Tight and secure,
I remember always feeling
Out of breath within the
First 6 seconds
Of a hug with her.
Momma's hugs were
The opposite.
Soft and warm.
Like a comfortable rain on a spring evening.
I never wanted to leave
Her hugs.
I remember being one of
Those kids who would
Push their parents away
When getting hugged,
Especially since I got older.
I'm jealous of
12 year old Sal.
I would die
For a hug right
About now.
YOU ARE READING
Sal
Short StoryBeing stuck on death row can be pretty boring. Why not write about everything until the inescapable death that waits for me just as much as I wait for it.
