Today I biked home past a cemetery. Outside, a 1950 Schwinn bike was leaning against the oldest oak I could see. As I passed further on I could see just beyond the fence an old man strolling... past his friends? Past the past.
It's nine-o-clock at night, the neighbor's bonfire roars so loud I can hear the snaps in the furthest corner of my house. All the dogs in the neighborhood are on edge and sensitive to the slightest snap of a twig.
My wife comes home from chaperoning the football game with stories of mosquitoes and smelling of high school. ers.
"6 to 40, visitors" And I'm done for the night.
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