Fiction
Run
Rebel Runby Eli Cranor
His newspaper is still in his driveway. I check the mail, maybe two days worth. Think about Kate and the girls. Remember her begging me to stay. She doesn’t know about the money. It doesn’t matter. Today is the day.
I stick his mail down the front of my coat. I leave the truck running. He’s a tough old man, toughest I know. When he lived out on the farm I saw him shoot a bull through the back of the head just after the bull bent his d**k sideways on some heifer’s bony ass. God, I wish I had more of that in me.
His house looks like something a woman would live in. Granny made them move in from the farm when she got sick. It’s got light blue trim, dark blue shutters—an all blue house. It’s the damn house that’s killing him. I see that now. Men like Pop
