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stolen my sense of smell?
No, I smell tobacco, too
strong in my hair and
clothes. I smell deodorant,
his and mine. I smell
leather seats and a faint
aura of crystal. But still
no red rose perfume.
Frustrated, nervous, I
decide confession is
in order. “Remember
a few months ago when
you dropped me off at
home? Mom told me
never to bring you there.
That’s why I wanted
us to come in this car.
I want them to get to
know you without thinking
you’re a meth fiend.”
Well, I’ll do my best to make
them think otherwise. Then
he poses an interesting question.
But what if that’s what I am?
Mom Greets Us
With a frosty Hello. The Queen
of Cool assesses Trey. Finally
she offers, I’m Marie.
And you are…
Trey does his best to be
