What’s That Sweetie?
Pulling weeds was hard work. It’s no wonder Gerald never did it. His hands had a million tiny cuts. They stung from dirt and sweat. He gingerly grabbed the handle of the fridge to open it, and looked in.
Nothing. Well, a few things. But nothing.
“Hey, Hun? Where’s the lemonade?”
I Love You Still
Rich had been across the Illinois border for about an hour. The tank was low. His vision was half focused. He was so tired it was physically painful. He hadn’t eaten all day. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting home. He almost forgot what home looked like-what it felt like and how it smelled. Laura was a different story. He hadn’t forgotten how she felt. Two months and three days, and he still knew every nook.
The Window Never Rang
It was 10:06. Mister Conrad was never up until this late. The blue flicker of the TV flame had extinguished, but the glow of Mr. Conrad’s prized lamp was still filling the living room window. It was one of the only things he kept when Jane’s mom died. He always fell asleep next to it. But he never forgot to turn it off.