6 Sep

I have no idea who the Fannie of  the headstone is. This story is based on what the picture said to me.   

Fannie had straight, straight hair with tips of gold that ran right into a boy’s eyes and then into his heart. Their stupid brains never stood a chance. She stole my first boyfriend from me while I was at the dentist having my braces put on.

I remember walking home and seeing her back pressed against the chain link fence. You could tell that she wasn’t saying a word. My boyfriend gabbed on and on making more faces than a circus clown. Fannie just basked in his glow like a sun worshipper.

I crossed the street and she turned her head slightly.  As if she sensed me coming up on them. Frannie turned and gave me a dismissive “hi” like a gunslinger blowing the smoke off his six-shooter.

Frannie was eleven and had a whole life of breaking hearts ahead of her.  And now she’s gone. Like Dracula with a stake in his heart. Choked on a peach.  What a shame.


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