Monday, March 27, 2017

The Golden Hour

I sit with the dog on the stone church steps, across the street from the grocery store, and wait for Katie to come out with our dinner. An old, thin, white-haired man with glasses and a cigarette gives me a nod and sits on the wall a few yards away.

The  sun goes down, painting the buildings across the street a warm, buttery gold, and blueing the sky like gradually deepening water, while I watch people cross the street, back and forth, some of them talking on their phones, some carrying groceries or some heavier, invisible burden.

I suddenly find myself wondering if the white-haired guy is spying on me, for some reason, but when I turn to look at him, he's looking down at his phone, taking absent-minded pulls on his smoke and ignoring me entirely.
One year ago: Workout Buddy
Two years ago: Just Needed Permission
Three years ago: In the Way
Four years ago: Raggedy
Nine years ago: His and Hers

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