I changed my first taillight in the Canadian tire parking lot
A hot day in July, I was 17
You texted saying you 'were sorry you weren't there to help'
I didn't know taillights burnt out
But I've always known whatever I needed, you wouldn't be 'there to help'
So really, don't sweat it, I will
About the Creator
AJ
Because locking myself in a dimly lit house on the seaside and feverishly pouring my soul out on a typewriter is not available to me right now
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
It’s sad for sure to not have the help, but there’s a perk in having to do it yourself because now you can do it yourself. And you’ll find more and more things that you can do, and the world opens up. 😊