Mark Brooke | 4.09.2015 

"Who says I can't afford a mobile phone?" He repeats his question, painfully-slow while inching forward.

"I—"

"Do I look like I'm fucking broke?" Martha flinches at his tone.

"I—I am really sorry, Mark. I— don't what..."

"Enough with the excuses! I am not broke. My mom just doesn't trust me with a mobile phone.

I thought you were somebody different Martha, somebody very-very different. Just because my dad died, and my mom cares more about my Step-Dad than me, doesn't make me broke.

My mom sends me to school, my mom gives me food to eat. I am surviving! Nobody has any right to point at my life and make a joke about it."

"I am really sorry Mark. You should have told me." She hugs him.

He wraps his thin arms around her pudgy built.

"I like you, Martha. I really do." He whispers into her ear.