Leaving Witt

L.T. Garvin

It was the end of the day and my cousin Joey and I were skating in the concrete drainage ditch on the outskirts of town. It was spring in Witt, Texas and I was gonna be history as soon as I could figure a way out of this town. Not that Witt was such a bad place to be, I’m sure there were worse. But you can only spend so many years watching the bug fryer at Allsup’s on a Saturday night and remembering not to speed on Main Street in case the cop is parked somewhere and you might hit the median if you have to make a run for it.

“No way Joey, I won’t degrade myself to those stupid standards!”

“But Mary Ann, if you would just enter, you never know. Think of the money.”

“Well there are other ways to get out of this town and…

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