The 8 year old boy with red hair and a temper voluntarily hugged his mom for the first time in over a year. She was so taken aback that she nearly cried at her son’s sudden need for connection.
The pair sat on the couch watching a movie. The boy’s head rested in his mother’s warm lap. The boy could feel his mother’s beating heart through the pulse in her thighs. She smelled of coffee and coconut body wash.
It wasn’t really the boy. It was an obsessive possession.
Thank you for reading and please check out my current books:
Tree Leaves in Wolf’s Maw: Poetry, philosophy, photography
Static: Prelude to Evolution: Mental illness and recovery