Forget Me Not
The first thing I noticed as I circled the block searching for a place to park was the house. A modest, dark red brick bungalow, it contrasted dramatically with its neighbors by its impeccable cleanliness and order. The wrought iron fence gleamed coal black and shiny, the roof was spotless with not a single missing shingle, and the snow had been shoveled so neatly that the flagstone walkway looked scribed by a yardstick from sidewalk to stoop. The pristine white rectangles of yard were repeated in miniature by the curtained windows bracketing the polished oak door. The whole picture was framed by hedges trimmed to perfect symmetry. I remember thinking it must be the residence of a retired military officer and his wife. I fancied they had so cherished their tidy little home that for years they had resisted the flight to the suburbs, patiently hoping for the renaissance that was, in fact, finally beginning to scrub the grubby face of the city center.
Message From Long Ago
A Message from Long Ago “Just pack your bags and move out then,” Walter snarled as he turned back to the huge stack of bills on the table. “You and I both know we’re done for. You want out, just go.”