Читать книгу I Hate Walt - Vicki Andree - Страница 14

Bobby Porter had put in a long day on the streets of Denver. One domestic situation, a drunk driver, a speeder through a school zone, and then a robbery at Kum & Go made the day go fast. Snow made driving difficult, at best. He was glad to get home after putting in another unexpected twelve-hour day. Picking up the slack for the vacationing personnel made the holidays fly by.

He changed into his comfy sweats. In the kitchen he found leftovers from the New Year’s dinner his mother had sent home with him. “Oh, now, I know you’re not going to let this food go to waste. Here, take this, and some of this, and this.” He replayed her going around the table, dipping into each dish to fill a large plastic bowl. Now he appreciated her efforts. He took the lid off the bowl and stuck it in the microwave oven while he retrieved a soda from the refrigerator.

The microwave tinged, signaling that his food was ready. Bobby carefully picked it up with a paper towel to protect his hands and sat on the couch in front of the TV. I should call Mary Lou, but I’m beat. I’ll probably mess up if I talk to her. Besides, I need to get some sleep. I’m on the late shift tonight. He took the last bite of supper and fell asleep.