He came at her with the force of an asteroid crashing against the moon. Thomas Murphy’s front teeth found Martha Wilcox’s in a collision that sent a black flash across his eyes and left his top lip numb. The blood blooming across her teeth sent him into a panic. There was a moment before she cried where she just looked at him, as if to say, you dumb son of a bitch. In the history of boys and girls trying out new things behind middle school gymnasiums, he was sure this ranked as the worst attempt to reach first base, ever. He should have let her finish the Milky Way bar he’d just traded for the chance to kiss her. It was there, in the dirt between their feet. Martha balled a tiny fist and sent an upper cut that connected with Thomas Murphy’s chin—a clean, well-placed punch. The Universe spun.
Jonathan Kosik teaches film production classes in Winter Park, FL. When he’s not busy battling the giant mosquito in his backyard, he likes to watch his beard grow. It’s a pitiful sight.