Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
She tugs at her left earring as she leans to her right, nearer and nearer to his mail truck. His gray hair lilts in the breeze. Even at seventy, she has a thing for men in uniform. She admires his kneecaps with a sideways glance. Spring is finally here.
When cars pull into the complex and slow for the speed bump by the expanse of mailboxes, he looks busy, whistles while he works. She chats with him, playing now with her watch, her bare ring finger. A resident comes for their junkmail. The woman eyes her neighbor warily before turning back to her darling civil servant. She asks about Wednesdays, the day the grocery store ads arrive. Is it a rough one for mailmen? She notes how rarely she receives any real mail. “You’re not alone,” he mutters and she sucks in her breath. Then she gives a slow, satisfied smile.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you…Tuesday…” She sighs for his benefit, lamenting the long weekend. She heads for home without a single envelope.
–Colorado Springs, Colorado.