I instinctively yank the screen door up and out. Remembering how it sticks when the air temperature reaches a certain dew point, I smile as I step inside.
It’s dusty and overgrown so my senses are on alert. I never was too fond of snakes or mice and that hasn’t changed since my last visit to our childhood summer home 15 years ago.
I step inside and I’m assaulted by memories of summers with my brother. My parents are gone but their presence is strong.
I send a text: “We can’t sell this place. Race you to the dock!”
My Fellow Fictioneers:
I apologize for not commenting on your stories again last week. I continue to have connection problems. It’s very frustrating because each session lasts, sometimes as little as a few minutes before a crash. The good news is that my new PC is here, it just needs to be set up, hopefully that will happen Friday. Why the delay you ask? Well, my WiFi password is so good that even I can’t figure out what it is, so I gotta get “the guy” to come out.
I still try to read as many of your stories as I can from another device but I am not logged on to WordPress through it so I am unable to comment.