The Frantic Birth of Despair

by solaris2001

The child pressed his wet face against the dusty mesh of the storm door off the front of the house, his eyelashes catching between the mesh squares with each tearful flutter. His throat hoarse, gasping hysterically between futile pleas, he pounded his weak fists against the aluminum frame, causing an irksome rattle that couldn’t drown out the sound of heavy leather suitcases and overstuffed black garbage bags landing decisively in the rusted trunk of the aging coupe. Slamming the trunk shut, the father turned and scowled in unabashed disgust and disapproval as the child let out a final, hyperventilated “Stay.”