The puddle

The puddle

I sat in the puddle.

The puddle said, “What the matter?”

I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

We sat in silence for a while.

Eventually the sun evaporated the water and I got up.

I walked for a while till I got to downtown.

McCreedy was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of Bechner’s Hair Stylists. He said, “What’s with the caked mud on your butt?”

I said, “It says what needs to be said.”

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