Vincenza Graham
Eighteen
“Vinnie, come on, come one! It’s going to blow!”
“Hide! Over here!”
“I’m coming!”
Laughter and hurried hushes of teenagers filled the otherwise quiet parking lot. The asphalt cracked and spotted with the occasional pothole while the white lines of the parking spaces were faded to nothing more than outlines. Only a few lampposts remained…[Read more]