Wimpy shows me flashes of my son, Billy, and my poor father. Ten o'clock in the house at Price Road. I go down to the pantry for milk and cookies, hoping my father won't be there. Frustration makes me surly and petulant. "Gay" was not a household word in those days.
He is there. "Hello Bill."
The pathetic appeal and the hurt in his eyes.
"Hello."
Nothing but cold hate. If only...Too late. Over from Cobble Stone Gardens.
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