Home of a mother, wife, writer

When Isaac didn’t answer him, Jonas started to worry. Who could be at the door that Isaac wouldn’t just call back to tell him? Half-formed theories raced through his head, but he put them all down and struggled to sit up. His crutches were back in his room and his leg wasn’t within reach. But, he still needed to figure out what was going on.

But, even as he’d slid to the edge of the couch, Isaac stumbled back into the living room. “What is going on?” Jonas demanded, but Isaac didn’t look at him.

Isaac’s voice shook when he spoke. “I already told you that you can’t be here. You need to leave before the police get here.”

“You wouldn’t call the cops on your own father, Isaac. I know you better than that.”

Jonas tried to shoot up to his feet at that voice, one he hadn’t heard since he’d sat with Isaac in that courtroom seven years ago. He’d forgotten he couldn’t do that anymore, though. He grabbed for the arm of the couch before he could tumble to the floor.

Isaac glanced over his shoulder at Jonas. Their eyes met for a moment, and it was all Isaac’s father needed to strike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uh oh. Not looking so good for these two, is it? This week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt was to use “spoke” somewhere, in some form, in your post. Bonus points if you don’t use it in the first sentence. This follows right after last week’s.

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