I’ve now got a one way ticket on The Guilt Trip.

  “THAT’S ...   okay,  billy.”  brows crease in unspoken sadness,  yet georgie manages a SMILE  if only to accurately  reassure the other.  he reaches out his hand --   his only hand,  now --    to pat his brother’s,  as if to solidify his words. ( it had become clear to young georgie that   no  one   would ever believe him about  THAT DAY.   after all,  who would?  it was too irregular,   too  STRANGE,   too likely to be something that this   seven year old’s  MIND  would make up  to make the whole unfairness of the situation  make sense. )    and georgie supposed  that it was okay for people not to  BELIEVE HIM.   he probably wouldn’t believe himself either,  had he not lived it.         

yet the young boy preferred for things to be  CLEAR & REAL  between himself and bill;  he liked for them to be on the same wavelength,   to understand  each other  COMPLETELY.    it was always  bill &  georgie d.enbrough  against the world,   the two of them,    A TEAM.    (   but georgie had never felt more alone,  like the clown had taken something much larger from him than  JUST HIS ARM.  his safety. his happiness. his childhood. everything. )     but despite everything,    he SHRUGGED. “you don’t have to believe me,   okay?  i know it’s ...   it’s  dumb.” 

❛          so i’m sittin’ there,     barbecue sauce on my tiddies——          ❜