“Who then is this, that event he wind and the sea obey Him?”
“Before or after Thanksgiving?”
“Before, definitely. I remember it snowing before at least a couple years.”
“After. Thanksgiving’s tomorrow—what’re the odds?”
“Seventy percent chance of snow tonight. Checked the weather.”
Next morning, the silence of muffled, floating snowfall greets them. Neither before nor after. The day of.
Crouching ragged against icy brick wall, feet hustle. No heads turn, no hands reach from warm woolen pockets. Downcast eyes; another hopeless day. Outstretched fingers frozen, empty icy palm.
“Merry Christmas.” Coins pressed hand to hand. Shined shoes, black coat, briefcase hasting away.
Wide eyes, stammered “thank you.” Dinner tonight.
Their seductive scents drifted afar, sensuously drawing suitors. Closer, lured inexplicably, suitors perceive dazzling dress. Dazzles paraded, thrusting away competitors. Crowds of color jostling for attention, spreading, swirling beneath glowing sunlight: yellow, red, pink, white. Life and death balanced on almost-gaudy displays. Springtime the flowers bloomed, vying for bumblebees’ attention.
Wash Behind His Ears
Beaten, battered, thrown about as no more than a rag. What did Mommy think he was, to treat him this way? A mere toy?
The little boy cried as he watched his dearest companion treated so unjustly. “Stop it, mommy!”
“A little longer, Jason. The laundry will be done soon.”
A Moment Too Soon, a Moment Too Late
Don’t want to get there too early. It’s embarrassing to show up fifteen minutes early. Get strange looks. Check watch. Killing time—browse newspaper, wash a dish or two.
Check watch; still too early. Wander around, move items (later, can’t find them). Read another article. Interesting, absorbing.
Check watch. Late!