the house on 310 south dodge st.

When I was in the fifth grade I remember sitting at the brown laminate table with wooden chairs staring at the glass sliding door. The sun still hadn’t gone down yet and we were eating supper at the time. When all of a sudden blue lights flashed on the wall like my fast beating heart. I was scared and didn’t know what was happening or why they were at my house. I then heard a muffled knock on the door. We then let in the police. I then found out that my grandmother called the police department because she did not think that my dads house had good enough living conditions. I am starting to think she wasn’t wrong my father likes to come in and out of my life as he please’s like a never ending revolving door. On 310 south dodge st. there is nothing left but a broken home filled with broken people.