His morning started too early, always. Kevin didn’t really remember
a time when he wasn’t tired.
Cats moaned in gross excess of sex outside his windows. A
hollower version of similar sounds echoed from his stepdad’s room. Jim was
watching porno again, or maybe he was just passed out with the Skinemax blaring.
Broad fingers and chewed nails rubbed his eyes.
Kevin sat up, cross legged in bed. His heavy arms draped
across a big and freckled belly. He yanked a sheet over top of him.
It could not stop the sounds of the city nor the lights outside
his window nor even the crickets, but it helped. He sat like that for quiet
hours as anger slowly swelled inside his guts.
Morning was the worst. Jim would be awake.
Kevin hated the sunlight as it shone through his well-worn
sheets.
“G’t up, fat ass!”
It was barely cogent. Jim was piss drunk again, but he
always woke up early.
Breakfast was nothing beyond dry toast and verbal abuse.
Kevin was hungry when he bailed early down the fire escape.
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