Augustine

After all that fun I made it home and sneaked back into the house, tiptoeing past my mother's darkened bedroom. Everyone was still asleep.

I gripped my pillow and laughed into it. That was fun. A few minutes I stopped laughing. It wasn't funny anymore.

Guilt. Guilt pounded on my head. I kept pushing it back, refusing to let it in. They're just some dumb pears, beside the neighbors have plenty, who would miss a few baskets full. I pushed the guilt down. Push, push, push.