A radio voice, bad learner, ten years in prison, new dog upon release, small house, free house, kind owners whose faith has impelled them to believe in the wisdom of trading rent for renovation, he’ll fix the stoop, he’ll fix the windows, he’ll rewire the lights and repaint the walls, “six months down the road when you’re done you can find your own place,” kind owner one, a woman who reminds him of his wife, who can say where she is anymore, the divorce papers were already drawn up when he robbed the T-Mart, he signed them in jail, heard some names of places she might have gone, Mustang City, Aguilares, kind owner one clucks her tongue, brings him beer, stays to talk, next night also, it’s not until a week in that it even occurs to him that she’s flirting, then things go at a scary speed, a look to a kiss to the bed in ten minutes flat, “it’s our secret I won’t say a word to Don,” she pets his dog before she pulls her pants back on, he fixes the stoop, the windows, the wires, the walls, calls to say he’s done, “glad to hear it but sad also,” kind owner two, comes by to wish him luck, they sit on the porch, Don drinks the beer he doesn’t know his wife has bought, “you went faster than we thought you would much obliged,” doesn’t pet the dog but calls its name in a rapid low song, he tells Don he’s much obliged as well, he gives the weather like he’s on the radio, Don laughs at how much he sounds like the real thing.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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