Tombstone.
This morning I walked over to the sheriff’s office and greeted Miss Angel. “How are you?” she asked me.
“I okay, how are you?”
“Am good had a good pazt few dayz.”
“I’m worried about mommy,” I admitted.
“Oh?”
“She’s been real quiet and won’t tell me ’bout it. Just says there’s lots from her past she’s thinkin’ about.”
“Am sorry to hear zat.”
“I think it has somethin’ to do with Indians but I not sure. Gonna read more of her journals today to find out.”
“Hopefully she vill open up and talk about it soon. Iz not good to hold thingz in.”
“She says I can keep reading cause it’ll be there... It just ain’t easy for her to talk ’bout I think,” I nodded.
“Some people ave a hard time telling zer feelings.”
“Well I gonna go read a bit.”
“Alvright be good,” she said and I wandered off to find a quiet spot to sit and read.
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