It’s strange how thoughts connect to each other in life or death situations, flashing by incredibly fast, in Planck time.
Andrew remembers how Penny’s legs trembled uncontrollably after they’d been together for the first time. Laughing with joy, she could hardly walk and kept saying, “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t find her shirt so he gave her his. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her delicate feminine body to the kitchen. Setting her light frame upon the counter, he brushed the damp hair from her face and fed her ice cream from a bowl.
He remembers the boy’s brown hair, sticky with perspiration, and pasted to his forehead. Weeping with sorrow, Andrew kept saying, “I’m sorry.” He rocked the seizing baby in his arms. He couldn’t find the checkered shorts. He scooped the child up and carried his bruised body to safety. On that hot summer day, the little guy should’ve been eating ice cream.
Andrew Dabar (Excerpt from, “Black and White.”)