Saturday Morning Alarm

Saturday morning I tell my seventeen year old, “Might as well take your meds, since you’re awake.”

The alarm clock, his five-year-old brother, just run past me, past my was-sleeping teen’s door, down the hall, slamming noise.

Back, forth, back, forth.  Four times four.

Boy, is that kid ever revved, working some old battery he’s found, some old faithful in his never gonna break down five year old car.

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