Veneer
Okay, I wrote this one for a literary journal, too. They asked for something that addresses class and race. I limited the point of view to one old lady, and I let the narrative reflect her ways of seeing and speaking. I did grow up in the melting-pot of Detroit suburbs in the 1960s, an era when rioting and racial disharmony affected our relationship with the city. The few run-on sentences are on purpose. At times, I’ve found that adage about the veneer of civilization to be quite the case.
In the end, bad weather turned out to be what pierced the veneer.
Two uniforms pounded on the door, demanding entry and using her name like they had a right. She remained frozen, barely breathing, her stroke-addled leg throbbing, finger twitching on the trigger of Daddy’s rifle.
Bam bam bam! “
