Hank

His name is Hank and his master is the drive-thru taker at Chik-Fil-A, where the action only lags on Sundays, here, when it is closed in deference to the local churches, which might be nearly empty if the place were open, such is the popularity of the fast-food emporium. But back to Hank, who always waits near the door for his master to return, when it is time for him to return, that is, because Hank has a clock's sense of time, as do many dogs, though we don’t know that, because dogs are good at keeping some things secret. Anyway, tonight, Hank is getting a bit nervous, because his master, whom he only knows as Ed, is late, again, for the fourth straight night. Hank will keep his calm by going to Ed’s closet and foraging for a used sock with a good scent. Having found such a security item, Hank will curl up with it and wait, like the good dog that he is. Ed is 43 and single. His favorite food is pizza. (Hank does know these things.)

the game

When they were, well, younger, he was on the field and she was in the stands, watching him, hoping for him, hoping with him. It seemed so much simpler, then, because it was so much simpler. Everything seemed to be right in front of you, she thought. Now, things circled about, whispered around, snuck in under the cover of darkness, sprang on or upon when you least expected it. Now, things were different. She couldn’t help think that, as she sat in the stands, today, now, wondering just what had happened to them. Maybe they’d just been too young. Maybe they’d just dreamed too much. Maybe they’d not known enough to work at it, or been willing enough to work at it. The man next to her, he dressed in the team’s colors, yelled, “Kill ‘em; c’mon, kill ‘em,” and she remembered when they would yell that at him. She felt a need to leave, but she didn’t. There was a need to stay, also. So, she did. Her name was Grace. She had a dog named Waldo. She was resigned to living the rest of her life alone.

riding it out

She decided to stay behind because he’d just left and she felt as though nothing was of any use, even herself. The rain was hard – it sounded like hail was supposed to sound, she thought, though she’d never been in a hail storm. The wind whistled, mostly, accented by the slap of the front window – on the left – shutter which Earl’d loosened when he played Whiffle ball with Sonny in the front yard. She’d told them – him, Earl – that at some point it would become a problem. She turned on the radio. Everyone was supposed to move; evacuation was ordered. But she stayed. The only thing broadcasting was the alert to leave, to move. She didn’t care if she died, really, she thought, if the entire place just collapsed on top of her. She went to the kitchen counter and opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. She felt a warm sensation on her left foot. Dog tongue. She had an English bulldog. It’s name was Watson.

tremors

The building shook and he thought it was happening, again. That psychotic event, triggered by who knew what, that made everything tremble. Leftover from his time in Vietnam, in one of those tiger cages that the quote-unquote experts said didn’t really exist. But he knew the truth. He’d been in one. For months. Three. He’d counted the days. His wife, Marge, ran into the room to make sure he was ok. She was out of breath. “It’s ok,” she said. “It’s an earthquake, I heard it on the news, just now.” She put her arms around him, Marge, such a different woman than the one he’d married just before shipping off in March of 1966. Marge, who’d dedicated her life to helping him have one. “I love you,” he said, to her. “I know,” she answered. Everything was ok, now. For now. He’d been the star quarterback at Edson High, back in the day. She’d been a cheerleader. They’d been voted Most Likely to Marry. They had a dog named Quisno.

first class

He settled into his first-seat and the woman next to him, a stranger, turned to him and said, in a low, somewhat raspy voice, “Would you like to have sex with me?” and he was at first stunned, then only speechless, then rather suspicious, then simply confused, and, finally, interested. “I’ve done this before,” she said, adding, “I have the protection, if you don’t,” and he sat back for a moment and wondered if he was dreaming, because she was very attractive and much younger, and he thought, “Why not? Still … wait,” though he didn’t say it, exactly. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, “and that’s part of your problem – you think way too much,” and he wondered, again, how she knew him so well, and in the quiet she said, “We must, of course, wait until take-off and the fasten-seatbelt light is extinguished,” and they did. When he returned to his seat, he didn’t know what to say or what to think. Maybe he was in love. He was, of course, a guy. His name was Edwin. He was a corn feed salesman from Wichita. At home they called him Louie. She was a kindergarten teacher from Lubbock. Her students called her Miss Swanson.

library cop

His name is Carlos Gracia and he is the cop assigned to the local library and, think about this: kids, today, assume, it is assumed, that this is normal, that a police officer walks a regular beat around libraries and their grounds. Back when Officer Gracia’s grandparents visited the library, and they did, often, by the way, there was little need for an armed presence among the shelves. But, he is here, Patrolman Gracia, and, unlike the officer who regularly shoes the beat, he actually smiles at the library patrons. Perhaps he does this for a reason: To keep them off guard, or put them so, so to speak, in case they are planning something nefarious. Or perhaps he’s just a nicer guy. Patrolman Gracia – his friends call him Chooey – his duties end at 6 p.m., at which time he will head home to a dinner of Tyson honey-glazed chicken wings, Ore-Ida French fries and an evening of “Law & Order: SVU.” Now, though, he paces the spaces with a quiet fervor. He drives a ’98 Mustang he bought at auction and has a pet parrot named Job. He kinda likes his job.

1 sentence

She was sitting across from him at the bagel shop and they were talking about life, the good parts, as singles, and at their age, to boot, and she said, “And having the bed all to myself!” and he thought about the time since his divorce and how he still slept on one side, only, and how it must be that he was saving the other side for someone, and even though he nodded to her affirmation, he felt a flash of hope, for at least that sliver of an instant.