![]() They drank too many and stumbled around the condo fighting like a cat and a dog. ![]() Mine was called “Pink Smog.” I had written about the pink sunset that we watched from the balcony where my parents drank their evening cocktails. She hissed at us to be quiet as she handed back our papers about summer vacation. Miss Spinner sat on her stool with her long legs wrapped around each other three times as if they were made of rubber. ![]() The pavement rumbled, rough under my feet and up through to my heart, as I skated to school past the palm trees that my dad said looked like stupid birds, under a smog-filled Los Angeles sky. I made my lunch, brushed my teeth, and put on my roller skates. The pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers ached my molars as the milk turned rainbow colors. ![]() When I checked on my mom she was asleep, breathing normally in the bed with the blue satin quilted headboard, so I got myself a bowl of Lucky Charms. ![]() The day after my dad, Charlie, the love of my life, left, and an angel saved my mom from drowning, I woke up with a slamming headache and a wicked sunburn. GILDA AND IRVING BLOCK (TOGETHER IN MEMORY) ![]()
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