The feeling was far from pleasant. Once my friend’s colossal head collided with my face, I knew that I had broken my nose. Blood immediately drenched my large white tee and trickled down and onto the blacktop. I looked as if I had just fought Mike Tyson in a boxing match during the prime of his career. I slowly stumbled to the athletic trainer’s room with my bud in hopes of receiving some treatment. No one was there. ~excerpt from short story
"Let's Get One Thing Straight,"
The Tuxedo Archives: Vol. 2010
, Article 12.
Available at: http://scholar.dominican.edu/tuxedolit/vol2010/iss1/12