PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox
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How did I end up like this?
Look at this. A baby walker, little kiddie motorized truck, and the worst of it, a mega-propane barbecue.
This isn’t me. It was never me. I guess that’s the point, though.
“Alan? Can you come in and help me change the baby’s diaper?”
“Yeah, Hon. In a minute.” I sound just like some stupid suburban husband. I mutter, “The name’s Ricco.”
I shrug my shoulders and start trudging up the back steps. Diapers. Married. Barbecues. It’s not me, but then the mob won’t be looking for a hit man turned state’s evidence here.
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