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Fiction

Abstract

I should have stayed in bed that morning is what I should have done; but instead, Theresa and I ran away to get married, me saying, "Hey, Theresa," from a phone booth at seven-thirty that morning, "I've packed my duffle bag and I'm at BeDel's and if you want to get married, you'd better come over here, quick," and Theresa is saying, "You're crazy, do you know that —you are crazy," but slamming down the receiver and rounding the corner of Eggert Road and Northbriar, wheels whining, a few minutes later...

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