Showing posts with label Steven Shabo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steven Shabo. Show all posts
The Dog
By Steven Shabo
He came out of nowhere. If I had been paying better attention, I might have seen him. But I doubt it. I hit him head on. I think he died instantly or at least I hope he did. He didn’t have a collar or tags. I parked my car and pulled him off the road. I asked the people at the bus stop if they knew who’s dog it was. They didn’t. I stood there looking down at him; his eyes wide open frozen in a terrible moment. I told him I was sorry and said a silent prayer even though I’m not a religious man. Cars passed us by as the people continued to wait for their bus. I got back into my car and drove off.
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Steven Shabo is a cancer survivor who lives in Houston,Texas.
By Steven Shabo
He came out of nowhere. If I had been paying better attention, I might have seen him. But I doubt it. I hit him head on. I think he died instantly or at least I hope he did. He didn’t have a collar or tags. I parked my car and pulled him off the road. I asked the people at the bus stop if they knew who’s dog it was. They didn’t. I stood there looking down at him; his eyes wide open frozen in a terrible moment. I told him I was sorry and said a silent prayer even though I’m not a religious man. Cars passed us by as the people continued to wait for their bus. I got back into my car and drove off.
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Steven Shabo is a cancer survivor who lives in Houston,Texas.
The Belt
By Steven Shabo
His hands hurt on most days. He still gets recognized when he goes out, but doesn’t like talking about it anymore. He tries not to think about it, but it’s hard. Living the life of a mortal has never been easy. Those early Saturday mornings when he walks the dog, he fantasizes about the night he landed that perfect right hand and won the title.
He looks to see if there are any people around. If there aren’t, he shadowboxes a little before he heads back. When he gets home everyone is still asleep. He quietly opens the closet door and gently removes some clothes off the top of an old box. He opens the box and just looks at it for awhile. He takes it out and tries to put it around his waist, but it doesn’t fit anymore. He remembers holding it in the ring that night full of pride. He puts it back in the box and goes into the kitchen. He makes breakfast and smiles at the dog.
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Steven Shabo is a cancer survivor who lives in Houston,Texas.
By Steven Shabo
His hands hurt on most days. He still gets recognized when he goes out, but doesn’t like talking about it anymore. He tries not to think about it, but it’s hard. Living the life of a mortal has never been easy. Those early Saturday mornings when he walks the dog, he fantasizes about the night he landed that perfect right hand and won the title.
He looks to see if there are any people around. If there aren’t, he shadowboxes a little before he heads back. When he gets home everyone is still asleep. He quietly opens the closet door and gently removes some clothes off the top of an old box. He opens the box and just looks at it for awhile. He takes it out and tries to put it around his waist, but it doesn’t fit anymore. He remembers holding it in the ring that night full of pride. He puts it back in the box and goes into the kitchen. He makes breakfast and smiles at the dog.
- - -
Steven Shabo is a cancer survivor who lives in Houston,Texas.
