I drove home, that self-righteous voice narrating my way.
He would mutter his “’Morning” and paid no attention to me after that.
And then yesterday he snapped when I dared walk into his office!
Seems to think he can do everything by himself? Fine. Let him cross the Styx by himself.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and found the single rose and the note apologizing for his behavior as he finished his super important project at work, the note that promised a special second honeymoon where ever I wanted to go.
There was a rumor that one town survived the collapse and continued on as if nothing happened. After Mark was murdered for a 15-year-old can of green beans, I went in search of the modern-day Eldorado.
I kept my treasure close, a real-life paper map, printed a decade before the collapse.
There was a red “X” on one town.
I’d find it.
Three months, at the map’s “X”, I saw a glow on the horizon. That was it! I hadn’t seen such a glow since the collapse.
The next day I found the recently burned-out husk of my dream Eldorado.
I had always loved the old set and hated to see it go, particularly the chair with Michael’s name carved in the back. But the ancient card table and four chairs took up too much space after the move.
By the side of the road with a “Free!” sign on them, the set sat there for less than a day.
Except for one chair.
For a month I put the chair out every day it wasn’t snowing, but no luck.
I finally gave up.
Michael, you may be gone, but, for better or worse, your chair is here to stay.
Yes, 2nd story – the first just bugged me too much. I wrote it trying to be silly, but coming back to it I read it as abusive. Not my intention at all! So I am takign it down and putting this in it’s place.
(Edit) – OK, I am putting the first back up as well… I’m sure people know I wouldn’t put something up that made humor of a disability and understand it was just being silly.
Yep, when that big drift melted, there was Pa, sitting in his chair, just as he was back in December. He was looking a might bit unhappy, as you’d expect. Solved the mystery of where his favorite chair was.
And where Pa was.
We thawed Pa by the fire. When he could move, he ate about every bite of food in the house, like a spring bear. Said he was some hungry.
Pa said he’s feeling himself again.
When the chair is free, we’ll move it to the creek and set Pa in it so he can fish all summer.
OK, not sure what this bit of silliness means. And I am not condoning any type of abuse! Nor of humor at the expense of a disabled person.
(Later edit, after removing this post) – OK, too complicated ;) I was not trying to be insensitive, but perhaps removing it was what was really insensitive. So I am putting it back.
Just two blocks from the theater district and the world had changed.
The city had always frightened Kim. She would never think of straying beyond her comfort zone, but here she was.
Robert had dropped her for the matinée in front of the Wang, not the Colonial. She had never walked there, but was it really that hard?
“Ma’am, wait, hold on…”
Kim barged forward to escape the dark face calling to her.
She didn’t see it until too late.
Now when she visits the city, Kim makes sure she spends time in “her neighborhood” with the “world’s friendliest people”.
I drew a blank at first, but the photo reminded me of a section of Boston close to the theater district. It is an area that someone from a rich suburb who never visits the city might find scary, though it isn’t at all, and few spots int he city are scary during the day… So, a little story about the breaking of unfair biases…
The door was spotless and gleaming. The little alcove between the door and the iron gate was filled with dust and debris. The gate had never opened in Robbie’s memory, but every so often a potted plant would appear, as if to shout that there was life beyond that door, and just as suddenly it would disappear.
Robbie often wondered what lay beyond that door. In his imagination he saw a beautiful princess awaiting rescue.
With a sigh he turned back to that wasteland that once was a city, years before he was born.