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Finn

I lean against the balcony wall and take a long pull froarette I bummed off my Grandpa’s lawyer The last time I smoked hen I was nineteen, but today is bad, crazy bad I’ve been out here on the balcony for what seearette, but it’s done nothing to calm me down

I shake er My lips twist into a smile It’s not the sort of smile that reaches my eyes It’s bitter After ninety years on earth, the old one

“You’ve really fucking done it this time, Grandpa,” I mutter under my breath

I look out over the carefully cultivated grounds of randpa, who, it seems, has excelled hirave

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves of the tall trees around the edges of the huge lawn The gardener is cleaning the massive Romanesquegift for my mother She is very proud of it

I caught hell off her for squirting a whole bottle of dish soap into the water when I was seven I was delighted with the result I thought it looked ical with bubbles and suds everywhere

My mother, not so much

I straighten and take one last drag of the foul cigarette, then crush it out in the ashtray on the glass table behind me

I should have known so, I never could have predicted this one in a million years, but I should have known there would be soed me, pushed me to be the best version of myself, even when I resisted him, but this? This one is completely, totally, utterly from left field