Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
by Ted Scott
Pauline was in the sun room, listening to the music on WFCR. She couldn't really hear it, and she didn't really care, but it was on and maybe she felt we were paying attention to her. She could see us through the door into the kitchen. Pauline said she wanted a hot dog, so I was chopping a couple of the frozen soy dogs out of the pack. I was a little surprised that Pauline would eat them. I'm sure she prefers meat. She probably thought Val would have one, but her daughter hasn't eaten those in nearly a year.
"It happened again today," Val said, smiling.
"A guy. A guy tried to pick me up."
"Did he offer you candy?"
"No, silly. That's for 10 year olds."
"Well, what did he do? What was his line?"
"Oh, he just stopped and said, 'I like your back pack.' That's all. I don't even remember what I said, but there we were standing on the sidewalk, facing each other, in front of the post office. It seemed like we just started talking."
"Did you get a description? Was he the same guy as before?"
"No, he was a little older. He said he was 80. I think he was lonely. He gave me his name. I gave him mine. I said I was married. We talked for 5 or 10 minutes. I felt sorry for him."
"So that's two strikes in less than 3 months. That's pretty impressive for a seventy-year-old married lady."
I put my hand on my wife's shoulder pulled her close, then kissed her on the cheek. She smiled and her eyes kind of sparkled, and she leaned in a little closer.
"I'm proud of you." I said. I didn't even look to see if Pauline was watching.
Ted Scott is 72, and retired from teaching physics. He lives in Greenfield
Massachusetts with his wife, and with all of his descendents within easy walking
distance. His mother-in-law died shortly after this was written. She would have been 100 last May. Ted's at firstname.lastname@example.org
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