Flash Sketch III

I had just finished reading Ann Lamott’s book, and some of her anecdotes were fresh in my mind.

I got into a conversation with my friend Judith, that morning, and we talked about our childhood. I told her that mine was terrific, unlike my school chum, Conrad, whose parents abandoned him after they drove a stake through his ankle and left him on the steep, clay bank above the old Mobile station just East of Modesto.