Dappled gray light, spilling across the street where Tobias Farmer lived in comfortable seclusion. The time had come, the day was approaching, the letter was in the mail, all the signs were in place. The cistern out back had run dry, the weeds of summer were swept down, twisted in whirlpools of agony, flailing until now…yes, the clouds voted an opinion sympathetic with the general drift of things sui generis. The furnace ticked, the old dog rolled over and yawned and then, farted audibly in tuba register. My, my…retirement had its quaint moments, the energy of youth, the pulse of creativity, to jump to your feet and in a blind fury to spin round to the blasting music. Oh, that had been the case once…he himself a real flash point for all the quick-stepping firm young single women of his village, Lakeside, NY. Ontario’s blue waves lapping at the canoe as he asked Ginger or Edie to dance one more round. He had seen the old clubhouse bulldozed, replaced with a biotech lab years later, heard the crunch and splinter of old dance floor boards. He could still catch the rustle of their skirts; the laughter as they swept like flower corsages in bunches to the restroom. Tobias lit his pipe and his dog opened his eyes and watched the blue wreath of smoke circle his head, he gave a nose wiggle and sneezed gently in protest. An old widower at his leisure watching the gray afternoon December light fill the slow moving sky…and standing to his full height, Tobias Farmer motioned to his partner and swept slowly round the room.
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