My father beamed at me from his leather recliner. “You know, having not been around each other, we’re a lot alike.”
Whiskey stench. The late night police visits. My mother’s black eyes.
Too young to remember, bet he thought.
But then, I hated him for that statement worse than anything.
Mike Hancock is a former wilderness guide and commercial fisherman. Now living in Wewoka, Oklahoma, he is an Adjunct Professor of English and a freelance writer. He holds a B.A. in English Literature and a M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. His fiction has appeared in multiple literary journals, and London’s Ether Books. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mike-Hancock/112992545466326