April Flash #21
based on prompts by Amygdala:
Good thing you arent a woman; what new mess have you gotten yourself into; flags and ribbons
Flags and ribbons stood stagnant on front porches in the absence of any wind at all. This summer was oppressively hot, humid yet arid how that worked was beyond me. It went from sticky and suffocating, to dry and barren in a moment and the rain was hot and humid and brought no hope of cool relief. I wanted to see the decorations dance in a cool breeze, but they hung there limp, worn out, just like the rest of us. The parade had long since paraded down the street, trash lined the sidewalks, old beer cans rolling along whenever a careless foot found its mark. I saw you standing there, hands shoved in your pocket, wistful look darkening your normally light features, staring down the empty street like the rapture had just occurred and you were left behind and were trying to figure out why. We had been neighbors for years, and I always found it fun to wonder what was going on in your life. We didnt talk much just enough to know each other limitedly. We kept each other at arms length for a reason that wasnt fully understood or appreciated by either of us. But with you it was an easy trepidation, a contradiction of comfort that I neither understood or could express.
What new mess have you gotten yourself into? I asked as you began ambling towards me in that steady, loping walk you had remnants from your days down south well. Further south. With the heat we had we were far south enough for my liking. Maybe I always just pictured you the cowboy, anyway. I was reading your face, tracing the lines from the corner of your eyes that usually was upturned with smile creases, but looked to be wrought with worry, instead.
Not much you ran your fingers through your sandy hair and sighed. I shook my head, smiling but not meaning to, tossing you a cold beer from the cooler.
good thing you arent a woman, Sam, I said, easily, as you glanced at me youve got enough thoughts for a whole town of them.
You sat next to me on the porch swing, cold beer in one hand, spinning bottlecap in another and we swung back and forth in comfortable silence. Youd tell me eventually, and wed talk it out, laugh maybe have some dinner. I was thinking about fried chicken. We always did.
new prompts: Solace; harvest moon; tide incoming