Wistfully

The corners of your mouth are turned up. Slightly. I don’t like it. You came home from a three week sojourn in Alabama where you stole all the sunshine you could feast upon.

But here the rest of our little town has been caught in a two month maelstrom of gray, snow and rain. We get by as best we can. Drinking tea. Collecting unemployment checks while the mayor boasts of millions of dollars of investment into Green technologies. Waking each day a little more dreary. Dreaming the hours away a little more wistfully.

There’s two uneaten oranges sitting in the fruit basket on the kitchen counter. Sometimes I find myself just looking at them. Wistfully.

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