Too Much

Too Much

Too many ideas rattled in the little lady’s head. There was shopping to do, clothes to find, perhaps some lunch, a brief chat with the man at the market before he told her to move along, a visit with Squishy, her friend on Vine St. But before any of these happened, the little lady had to straighten up. The clothes had to be folded, the food secured out of sight, and cart’s left front wheel had to be freed up again. It was sticking lately. She left home, carefully shutting the corrugated door flap, pulling the plastic awning down and tucking it under a heavy rock. It was always good to leave the house…
johnreedclark 10/15/96