Spilled Milk

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They never gave me a polygraph. I imagined myself strapped to a machine with a series of questions being rattled off. The proctors would nod their heads and mark the sheets as it fed out the results. Everyone wanted to know the truth, yet they asked the wrong questions over and over. Are you okay? Do you need a break? What can I do? No one would want to hear the real answers.

My hand closed around the organic chemistry note cards in my pocket. How does Hydrogen and Chlorine react in the presence of an Alkaline?

The corner of my mouth twisted upward. Inappropriate to laugh, stop it. I forced a serious face before anyone noticed. There I was, sitting in the District Attorney’s office with stupid organic chemistry note cards in my pocket.

My mom sat on the adjacent wall from me, staring off into space somewhere. I also had the ability to fix my eyes on a given object while my brain sputtered into shut down mode. It was a welcomed retreat at times.

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