Doncha think the south is a strange place in the winter? Like now when it’s blowing, raining and really warm?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I do. I can just see the puddles digging into the roads and snakes and frogs slithering and hopping to get to the parties.”


“Sure enough. And the wind is whipping up the palm trees and making sure the sea gulls either huddle or line up shoulder to shoulder to brace themselves from being moved.”

Ohhhh,  alright! — I’ll go.”

“Great — get bread, cereal and a bottle of wine.”

About steviereynolds

One summer when I worked as a time card clerk for Younkers department store, I ran across my personnel file. I found out that my high school principal, Father Scott, said I was "phlegmatic." Forty-five years later, I still wonder whether he meant self-possessed, calm, and unruffled or torpid, sluggish and indifferent. Frankly I don't remember having much to do with Father Scott. He's dead now so I've missed the chance to see where he actually stood. But thinking about it has kept me on my toes.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Fragment

  1. Joyce Emery says:

    A loaf of bread and a jug of wine has taken on a whole different meaning.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s