Limos and town cars, with chauffeurs and security, were more his level. She figured taking a cab would’ve been beneath him those days. Kennedy nearly laughed at the sight of it. The yellow cab parked along the curb blew its horn, the middle-aged driver growing impatient. She imagined it had been quite awhile with the condition he was in. She wondered how long he’d been standing outside before she noticed him. He was drenched, although the rain had since slowed to a steady trickle. He said nothing for a long moment, running his fingers through his thick dark blond hair, the ends curling from being wet. Even from a distance, she could tell he’d been drinking, his eyes bloodshot and glassy. “You know why I’m here,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. As quickly as this storm rolled in, she needed it to go back away. “Why are you here?” she asked, unable to handle his silence or his presence. His black tie hung loosely around his neck, his button down soaked and clinging to his ashen skin. Her uninvited visitor stood a mere ten feet away, dressed in a designer suit that cost more than she made in a year, but yet he still somehow managed to look thrown away. Lightning illuminated the darkened afternoon sky, giving her a better view of him. Kennedy Garfield stood on the front porch of the two-story white house, staring out into the yard as thunder clapped in the distance. This, on top of that, was too much for her to bear. Burying her mother had taken everything out of her. She might’ve been worried about getting sick if there had been anything left inside of her to give, but no… she was empty. Her heart beat frantically, blood surging through her veins, mixing with enough adrenaline to make her stomach churn.
The weatherman on channel six had predicted a calm day, but the woman knew better. Rain fell from the overcast sky in sporadic bursts, quick manic showers followed by moments of nothingness.
Sing that (on-hiatus, totally-not-broken-up) boy band at the top of your lungs.
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