§.12
When Harmon waved to Sprawls as he made breakfast the man only shook his head and sneered.
“What?”
“Why you still here?”
“Where were you expecting me to be?”
“Anywhere but here. I told you last night. Ain’t gonna work out.”
“Are you being serious?”
“I ain’t gonna throw you out. I know you don’t have anywhere to go right now. You find one. Then you leave.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Richard?”
Sprawls didn’t answer and kept buttering his toast over a paper plate beside the kitchen sink. Even as he did so, his bloodshot and buggy eyes swept to the side cautiously, suspiciously.
“You’re gonna throw me out because… I didn’t give you a cigarette? Have I got that right?”
Sprawls shook his head and didn’t answer.
“Stop buttering the god-damned toast. I’m talking to you.”
“I gotta leave. You just remember what I said.”
With that Sprawls turned to leave but Harmon braced him with his left hand, turning him half about as Sprawls grunted and smacked his roommate’s arm away.
“Don’t you put your fucking hands on me.”
“This is my house too, Richard. I’ve been splitting the rent with you since you got it. We’ve been playing music together for four fucking years – you want to end all of that over… what? Nothing?”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“What is wrong with you?”
Sprawls just starred at him dumbly. Harmon knew he was high. He could smell it on his clothes. He wondered if Sprawls was on something else. He was always on something.
“Ain’t me that got the problem.”
“You disappoint me, Richard.”
“Yeah.”
And with that Sprawls turned and left the house as Harmon stood clenching his fists and fighting back a rage that compelled him to run from the house and bash his friend’s head against the pavement over and over until it splattered like an overripe mellon. Instead, he took a seat at his desk gathered up his laptop and went downstairs to begin filing all his belongings into cardboard boxes to take out to his car.
*
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