by David James
Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
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single sentence story
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Such a fine single sentence story.
Now I can't get the song out of my head - but then, it's a good song with a great voice. Good piece, David. Strong imagery in a small space.
So little says so much; time, change, freedom to do whatever we liked. Nice.
Darn it, David, you made me Google "centipede grass". Next time I use it in a scene I'll think of you. *
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I read it four times feeling like a dolt. TBT? A kind of TB? A kind of TNT? A misplaced Fb reference in a migrant story? I read and read and read and read. It turns like dancers in a small kitchen. *
I like this David, sad and haunting the way it evokes the passage of time and the loss since.
Nifty little tidbit. Says a lot in a small space. *
This has got it, David. In spades.
back then . . . *
Yes *