Lisa sat in her grandmothers favorite gold crushed velvet chair. Grampa continued his story. He spoke softly, without anger, "I was on my way to work. It was a hot morning, so I had the a.c. on. There was a traffic jam up ahead. Cars crawlin', people gawkin' at something laying against the road divider, horns honkin', bumper to bumper. I was worried 'bout overheatin', so I shut off the a.c. an' rolled my window down. As I got closer, I stuck my head out to see what everyone else was gawkin' at. From a few car lengths back, it looked like some crumpled up, busted up, old brown luggage. As I crept closer, I could see it weren't no luggage. It was the body of a boy. He was just crumpled up, with his skinny legs buckled under him like a shot deer. I remember it was quiet, no sirens, no flares fizzin' on the road. A policeman come outta nowhere and prodded us to keep movin'. The boy had long skinny legs that made his knee caps look like someone else should be wearin' them. His eyes were open and still seemed keen, like they wanted to cry but couldn't. No reason to stop and help. He was dead. We all just filed by at idle speed.
Nex' day I read about him in the paper. He stole a pocketbook at a carwash an run off. The cop what shot him said he flashed a gun at him, then climbed up onto the interstate. His momma was on t.v that night. She said, he was a real good boy, never in no trouble. I wanted to send a a card with my condolences, but I never did. It's bothered me off an on for a lotta years, not sendin' one.
They never did find no damn gun neither. He weren't no piece a luggage! Nobody's just luggage!
A few weeks later grampa passed. Lisa received many cards from friends and relatives.