They took off like a bottle rocket, through a field of corn.
The bottle was passed between them often as Bill barreled through the tall stalks, their laughter filled the air.
Living in such a rural area had its advantages.
Of course, the two of them had always hated the small village in East Germany that only consisted of six hundred some odd citizens, bright dreams had always fallowed them.
They hadn't made it out yet, but they always found a way to have a little fun.
Though they had their exceptions, they were always good boys. Good boys the old women in town would say.
Good handsome boys. Boys who would grow up to raise good families and their own good girls and boys.
Good boys, who never let anyone see them cry, always held their chins high and their shoulders straight…