xShadowWolfieCutiex

I recall, He was white. But, not the --"controversial at political dinner parties" and "this racist comment will cost him the election kind"-- Stark, snowy, riveting white. His hair was always victim to the static that came from resting against the mountain of pillows that topped off his hospital bed. He always lay there, a beacon in the middle of the dark, mudd brown, living room. I suppose it was hell to live the last of his life there, but at six, I thought he was God, living on a cloud that was Heaven. I remember his warm hands, their blue lines, and their wrinkles, the way his smile never met his eyes-- and his eyes said he