In the Caravan
It took awhile to recognize that when they said "Zeph," they were refering to me. I would have giggled had I the voice to, when I heard them tangle my name into all sorts of sounds. The general consensus was "Zeph" in the end, since it was the easiest.
It was a few weeks before my smiles became more genuine. The Derelicts called me one of their own. They were especially pleased to learn that I wasn't afraid to pickpocket those in crowds that seemed to have heavy wallets. It was so easy, because I would just limp slowly down the sidewalks, since it still hurt to move, and oblivious pedestrians would walk on past, not realizing they had lost something precious. Alcohol was abundant on nights that I brought home a big profit, but it still didn't suppress the pain. Physical pain I didn't mind, but my heart still felt as broken as it had the second I saw ... them.
Patrick had asked me on occasion if I wanted to go back home. The only response I could give him were sad eyes and a slight shake of my newfound white dreadlocks. He could read me so well, and put his arm around me and say in his gruff but gentle voice, "Oy, Zeph, you're one of us now, ya can't be leavin' anyways." At night, he would tell grand stories of his adventures under bridges, and dodging "authorities," and taking medicines similar to opium. It sadly reminded me of Uncle Tio... which brought me to thoughts of my sister Kizzie and my caravan back in Romania. They were lost... and I was a million years away. But there's no turning back, and I've settled into my new life. I blend into the sea of dirty smiles. Here I belong, here no one will hurt me or stamp all over my feelings. Here I am new.
It was a few weeks before my smiles became more genuine. The Derelicts called me one of their own. They were especially pleased to learn that I wasn't afraid to pickpocket those in crowds that seemed to have heavy wallets. It was so easy, because I would just limp slowly down the sidewalks, since it still hurt to move, and oblivious pedestrians would walk on past, not realizing they had lost something precious. Alcohol was abundant on nights that I brought home a big profit, but it still didn't suppress the pain. Physical pain I didn't mind, but my heart still felt as broken as it had the second I saw ... them.
Patrick had asked me on occasion if I wanted to go back home. The only response I could give him were sad eyes and a slight shake of my newfound white dreadlocks. He could read me so well, and put his arm around me and say in his gruff but gentle voice, "Oy, Zeph, you're one of us now, ya can't be leavin' anyways." At night, he would tell grand stories of his adventures under bridges, and dodging "authorities," and taking medicines similar to opium. It sadly reminded me of Uncle Tio... which brought me to thoughts of my sister Kizzie and my caravan back in Romania. They were lost... and I was a million years away. But there's no turning back, and I've settled into my new life. I blend into the sea of dirty smiles. Here I belong, here no one will hurt me or stamp all over my feelings. Here I am new.
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