The sign says “Sale”—I just have
to stop. The mom is wearing
white shorts and an old baseball
cap. The little girl in pink crocs is
selling dozens of sugar cookies.
I half-smile choking on a “Good
Morning.” I have a fetish with
pretty feet and shotguns. Sadly,
this sale has neither of those. I’m
shocked, I guess, to find a fire bird
stuffed animal in the 25 cent box.
Around the next table is a halter top
with a sticky note on top. The note
says, “Hand crocheted by my late
grandmother.”
That comment is
too far. Boys like
average, skimpy girls who wear old
dirty pearls. I bet that grandmother
was blind which makes this sale
kind of blue and haunting.
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