"For the Millionth Time" by Ashleigh Hickey


There in front a gray dashboard, illuminating with tiny red dots in a grid like pattern. Rain beating down on the windshield. My hands were locked behind. I sat confined. Black streams rolled down my swollen face.

“What if I never get better?” I asked helplessly. The cop’s face was a blank
canvas, cold and expressionless.

“What if I never get better?!” I persisted.

“What do you mean?’

What did I mean? What had I wanted him to say?

“If I was your kid, what would you tell me right now?”

We sat in silence.

Gary MillerComment