hiked a hundred highways

Rough hands push an oxymoron into his kid brother’s back: the park is (mostly) empty, and school’s the culprit. Yeah, he let Anthony take the day off (kid’s got a lot goin’ on up in his noggin), and it’s spring and it’s warm and birds have returned to temporary homes and, did Lou just hear an ice cream truck? 

“                 c’mon, walk with me         i’ve got something to show you.”

            an invitation. although,             it’s  not really like they             have much choice in it.

He agrees slowly, legs controlled by the robotic pull of his mind. His movements are choppy and strong, but he’s staring at her with a fair amount of regret, because, he’s on his break, and-- DAMN-- he could’ve made himself a sam’mich.  

Lips are eternally sealed (maybe) as the dip leading from the sole of his foot, to the heel of his foot drops comfortably to the resting space a  chair (with paper stuffed under one of the legs to attempt halting it’s permanent wobble) offers him. This diner is dead, isn’t it? Lou likes it, he’s decided, but, why are you sitting next to him when the chair a few options away looks absolutely clean? He mumbles something audible, ketchup from sloppy eggs caught in the corner of his mouth,