Prodigal Son By Jeston Dulin

She was drunk. I wasn’t. I wanted her. I knew what it meant when she said no, but I didn’t care. I forgot what she said when the tears poured out. I forgot what I did when I woke up. I lost her number when I erased it.

I saw my eyes in another person, twenty years later. I didn’t recognize him, but he knew me. I said no. He knew what I meant, but he didn’t care.

© 2014 Jeston Dulin

Jeston Dulin is a graduate of Northwest Missouri State University’s M.A. English program, and is currently teaching composition at that same school. He has worked as an intern with The Laurel Review, and has been published in NWMSU’s student-run literary magazine, Medium Weight Forks. He likes nostalgia, the Midwest, and questioning what it means to live in the real world.

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