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Centripetal It was like I was made of nothing, as though I were a balloon, being drained of air. I crumbled to the pavement, and looked up at him. The world seemed a lot brighter. The sun was in my eyes no matter where I looked, but it burned like a torch right behind his head. I had to put a hand in front of my eyes, but it didn’t help; my hand wasn’t there anymore. I started to sink into the ground, like it was quicksand. “You’re in good hands,” he smiled down at me, and then I disappeared. ~ I looked down at him while he faded away into the pavement. The old Dan Cook was gone. He wasn’t all that bad. But he was dragging me down. I couldn’t have him weighing down my conscience anymore. Still, letting him go almost hurt. I stayed awhile, not mourning, but thinking. Maybe about why this happened, but that didn’t matter. It did happen; that’s all that matters. I didn’t stay long, though, just a few minutes or so to feel the wind and smell the air. I had to get to work. It wasn’t a career, but it was a start. I had a lot of debts to clean up, and a woman and child to take care of. I couldn’t be a kid like him anymore.

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Centripetal Volume 12 Issue 1  

Volume 12 Issue 1--Fall 2010