Angelo’s father Horatio looked on with kind yet befuddled eyes as they talked, walking down the street. Knowing full well that his son had dropped out of school, he kept his mouth shut and his ears craned for the tiniest minutiae regarding his son’s sudden withdrawal. Sometimes life just didn’t go as planned, such as his own arrival in America from Haiti.
Used to full disclosure from his son, he was concerned something terrible had happened. But he knewi more than to ask. As his wife often pointed out, Angelo was tight-lipped, like his father. Still, he had a way of spilling his guts, a subtle nuance to his speech which painted colorful pictures. These undercolors often were more pure and true than a candid journal entry.
This time, Horatio had a hunch that Angelo had left school because of his girlfriend breaking up with him, her constant presence a sucking chest wound. His hunch was all too accurate.