The old dirty house.

The idea of the night surprised her. Collette had always lived in this dirty old farmhouse. Gram died in the 80s and onward to this. It was 2020. Coal was 60. The house persisted like a relic.

Cousin Rich said the house “Smelled of old meals long gone by” and lived with his dirty wife who was a Sheriff’s Dispatcher in some Howell condo. Grandpa was dead and gone. The swallows came to the barn in the deep spring and there were still some bats in the gloaming but things were changing. It was 2020 something and viruses were rolling down out of the sky like invisible snowballs.

About reluctantprodigal

Born in Detroit. Naturalist writer-thinker-poet living in the Greenbelt around Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA.
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