Let Your Sick Heart Sing

Let Your Sick Heart Sing By Timothy C. Phillips “Hey, honey, it‟s me. ” Over the payphone, he could hear her sharp intake of breath. She knew something was wrong; he had left their small apartment barely twenty-five minutes before. Just enough time for... More

Let Your Sick Heart Sing By Timothy C. Phillips “Hey, honey, it‟s me. ” Over the payphone, he could hear her sharp intake of breath. She knew something was wrong; he had left their small apartment barely twenty-five minutes before. Just enough time for me to fuck up again, he thought to himself “Why aren‟t you at the interview?” “It‟s my old car again, babe. The damned thing conked out at the stoplight over here near the hospital. It sure is cold out here. ” “Oh, no. How long until you have to be at the interview?” “Another thirty minutes. ” “Well, I‟ll come to pick you up, then. We want you to get that job. ” His face reddened in the cold. They had moved to Birmingham, six months after they had graduated college. They had decided to move in together, over the objections of her old-fashioned parents. After that, things had gone decidedly bad. Their only furniture was two straight-backed chairs and a small table. They slept on a mattress on a mattress on the floor. Cheap sh Less