Jordy

Jordan was his name. Jordy for short. He had it in for me and I never knew why. I think he literally hated me. It wasn’t any kind of secret crush as I was called a bone rack back then. Too skinny. Too awkward.  One afternoon, he raced by me on his bike and launched a rotten tomato at my head.

It caught the side of my face and exploded. I tried to pretend I wasn’t phased as tomato juice saturated my hair. But I felt shame and it stuck for years. I’ve always wondered what happened to that prick.

Inspired by Jerry Maybee. Photo by aquaArts studio.