Apr 1
4 min read
My Crooked Finger
A memento from playground jinks
I must have been around eleven. We ran out of class into the playground, like feral beasts being released from a cage. One of my best friends, in a wild show of exuberance, kicked out at me as I ran in front of him. There was no malice intended or any ill will. We were just two stupid boys doing what stupid boys do. Automatically I put my hand out to prevent his boot connecting…
